


A World Re-Born (A Les Miserables Fanfiction)

by itsjustme (dbheath2690)



Series: A New Beginning [1]
Category: Les Miserables, Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Gen, Hospitalization, Hospitals, I.V., Implied/Referenced Character Death, Les Miserables - Freeform, Modern-Past, Our universe, wound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbheath2690/pseuds/itsjustme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would happen if one day, the barricade boys just appeared in our world? What if they just popped out of the TV, and came to life? Fictional characters from 1832 trying to survive in 2014 America? That doesn't sound like it'll go over too well, but it could mean quite an interesting adventure. </p><p>In this, Les Amis come to life. Will they adapt? Perhaps with enough help. Will they stay? Will they enjoy it? Maybe.  Surely they serve a purpose. Keep reading to find out what it is!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Don't Think We're in Paris Anymore...

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a little idea. I know that most people aren't fans of an OC, but I feel like there would've been no other way to pull off the idea. I plan to keep running with this, so I hope you all enjoy. Thanks for reading. Please please leave some input. Leave me suggestions. You might find your idea featured in the chapters to come!

I had had an intense day of work. My name was Emily, and I was a 24-year-old photographer who had only just been given my freedom, after fighting for over a year for a divorce. I worked from home, and it was a great experience, but it wasn't easy. I didn't have any help, so I found myself swamped with tons of work on a daily basis. I hardly ever slept, and rarely found time to cook for myself. I lived off of food from my freezer that could be heated quickly, and even that was rare. I hardly ever ate. I'd been fending for myself for a long time. I got the hell out of my parents' house the day I turned 18. I had gotten married at 22, and the second my husband became abusive, I filed for divorce. It had been a long year, and I was still struggling to get back on my feet after such an ordeal. It was a painful process, and I had lived with him through the whole thing, just taking his abuse. I had fallen into a severe depression, and was almost positive I wouldn't make it out alive. I had tried many times to kick him out, but he just wouldn't leave. Eventually, he finally left, though I was still waiting for the divorce to finalize. I occasionally had to deal with him showing up at my doorstep to abuse me some more. It would be a blessing once the divorce was finalized and he was out of my life for good. I was used to being alone, and preferred it, so his absence would give me back my freedom.  
  
Though he was out of my life now, though not entirely, I was still struggling to lift myself out of the depression he had pushed me into. I often took on too many projects at once, as a form of distraction. I had a lot of talents, and wanted to put them all to good use. Though my career was as a photographer, I was also an artist, and on the side, I wrote. I had always kept myself busy, and finally getting the chance to have a studio in my home, where I felt safe, and away from him was rewarding, yet exhausting.  
  
Today had been trying, to say the least. I had to deal with way too many whiny kids, and screaming babies, and the moment the last customer left, I locked my door, cracked open a beer, and plopped onto my couch. I turned on the TV and flicked through the channels for a while, and when I found nothing, I gave up and heated up some leftover crepes. I ate slow, drained from my day. I washed my simple meal down with a glass of iced coffee and set to work on tidying the house just a tad. I spent so much time working that I really never made much of a mess, so I didn't have much to do. I liked to keep things organized anyway, unless I was too beat to actually care.  
  
I trudged to my bedroom, every step more exhausting than the last, and sat on my bed for a moment. I let out a sigh as I stripped myself of the discomforts of clothes worn all day. I threw on my favourite red and black plaid pajama pants and a loose black t-shirt, then headed into the bathroom to get washed up. I hadn't bothered to actually look at myself for a few days, and only when I looked in the mirror did I notice that the red and black dyes were fading from my hair, and the dark circles under my bloodshot blue eyes. My paper-white, inked skin severely needed lotion, and I was sure I was thinning out, no doubt from starvation. The past few months were the most stressful part of the divorce, and I was still trying to pick up all the pieces. Though I had my own place, and my studio, settling everything and getting used to a new way of life was difficult. I was still struggling to pull myself out of my depression, and often I found that I couldn't eat.  
  
I looked like hell. My blue eyes had lost all life to them. I only had a glimmer of hope that still shined in them. My hair was frazzled, and my nails were brittle. It was obvious that I was malnourished. I didn't sleep often, so I usually spent the time working instead. I knew I was pushing myself to my limits, but I wanted to go out with a bang if I did go out. The only shine to me at all came from the metal horseshoe ring through my septum and lip.  
  
I washed up and thought about what I should do in my free time. I thought about working on a painting, but I felt truly uninspired. My muse was gone. After the day I had, I definitely wasn't feeling photography, so I scratched that off my mental list immediately. I could've drawn something, but even that sounded unappealing. After a while, I decided that it had been too long since I watched Les Miserables. I doubted I'd stay awake through the whole thing, but there was just something about the barricade boys (while they were alive) that made me happy. After a day like I had, I needed that. I stood and popped the DVD into the player, turned on the surround sound, and sat back, relaxing and watching the movie.  
  
I had fallen asleep within just a few minutes, and I had only woken up to hear a little boy singing. I smiled and stretched, happy to watch my favourite part of the movie. Gavroche was one of my favourite characters. I had seen the movie a thousand times, and though it never got old or boring, I found myself drifting right back to sleep. I had had this intense dream that I was on the barricades, all alone, fighting against my soon-to-be-ex-husband. It wasn't pleasant, but I had won the battle. 

  
\---

I awoke to a loud crashing noise. I sat up straight, startled and wide awake, dizzy and disoriented at first as the blood rushed to my head. I immediately shoved the thought aside, deciding that my stack of books probably fell over. I couldn't shove it aside when I heard more clattering from my kitchen, followed by chattering, laughing, and shouting. Once my vision cleared, I was sure I was still dreaming. My living room looked like I had thrown a party, except I hadn't had any company in months. All of my supposed friends had sided with my abuser, and so I was officially all alone. I looked around, confused, and trying to make sense of things.  
"Mademoiselle, we need this couch," said a familiar voice, as I felt a hand on my shoulder. I rubbed my eyes and blinked a few times, but the voice matched 100 percent. It had been the voice of Grantaire, and sure enough, the drunkard stood slightly to the side of me, resting his hand on my shoulder. I wasn't sure if he was trying to wake me, or trying to keep himself in an upright position.  
"This is my couch," I told him. Why I was arguing with a dream, I'd never know.  
"Mademoiselle, please? It is for the barricade. We need your help," Grantaire told me. I looked around to see if I had somehow gotten sucked into the movie, but I was still in my living room, and women on my television were cleaning blood from the streets. I placed my hand on his and shook my head.  
"There's no barricade," I assured him.  
"No barricade?! Then surely we'll all die," he told me. I sighed and stood now, trying to wrap my head around this odd dream, since for some reason, I couldn't seem to wake myself. As I stood, he immediately grabbed hold of the arm of my couch, and I pushed him away.  
"No, just… wait a damn minute, now!" I cried out. I was confused, and exhausted, and my head was starting to hurt from all the noise. He froze, taken aback, staring at me with a shocked expression on his face. I was left in complete silence, and that was when I realized just how loud it actually was in my house. I looked around to see many pairs of eyes all focusing on me. "What's going on?" I asked.  
A blonde man wearing a red tailcoat shoved through the crowd of people scattered around my living room and stood in front of me. "Mademoiselle, these are trying times. We are in the middle of a revolution. Have you not been informed?" he asked. I groaned. This was too much to handle after the day I'd had. It seemed that I couldn't even catch a break in my sleep. Before I could speak, he tugged curiously at my pajama pants. "What kind of trousers are these? Why are you wearing them?" he asked. I laughed a little.  
"They're pajama pants, and I'm wearing them because I wanted to be comfortable," I told him, slightly amused, slightly annoyed. He quickly let go, with a hint of worry on his face. I was sure that he was worried he had invaded my privacy or offended me. I suddenly worried about the tone I had taken with one of my favourite characters from the movie. I don't know why I worried. It was a dream, after all.  
"I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle," he said softly, bowing his head.  
"It's alright… Let's just… Can we just sit down and talk about things before you mess up my house even more?" I asked. Combeferre, who had perched himself in front of my bookshelf had frozen with a book in his hand and looked up at me.  
"Oui, of course," said the blonde in the red coat who was obviously Enjolras, as he took a seat next to me. He looked at me with confused blue eyes, and I smiled at him.  
"I don't really know what's going on. I'm assuming this is a dream, but… There is no revolution. It's 2014, and you're in New York… America," I said so that everybody scattered from my living room to my kitchen could hear me.  
"That would explain this dreadful book collection," said Combeferre.  
"The poetry books are good," Jehan remarked. I giggled.  
"This dictionary belongs in the sewers," Combeferre said, obviously disgruntled by words created or redefined since 1832.  
"Hey! Everybody, look, it's Marius!" Joly shouted, pointing to my television. I smiled to see Marius and Cosette's wedding day playing across the screen.  
"Did he just get married to Cosette?" Eponine asked, now shoving through the crowd to look at my TV. I hadn't noticed her amongst all of the young revolutionaries. She was dressed like they were, and it was a crowded room. She watched the scene with an indescribable look on her face. "He looks happy."  
"This is absurd. None of this makes sense!" Enjolras shouted, fiercely.  
"No, it doesn't, but it doesn't make it less true," I told him. "Now, come sit down," I added to all of them, turning the TV and DVD player off.  
"Hey, wait! Let's see Marius!" Combeferre said.  
"No. Just… Sit down. We have to figure this out," I said. I gently took the dictionary from him and set it back on my bookshelf, then stood in the middle of the room. "I don't know how all of you got here, or why you're here, or how many of you are here, but we have some serious things to discuss."  
"Indeed, we do! Time is running out! The enemy marksmen will undoubtedly be here any moment. Gather whatever weapons you can, and prepare yourselves! Courfeyrac, gather the guns. Joly, melt down more bullets. Feuilly, see if you can't find any more gun powder! Combeferre, see how many we've lost," Enjolras instructed, standing on my coffee table. I shot him a glare. As much as I had loved Enjolras in the movie, I didn't appreciate him dirtying my coffee table.  
"Enjolras, get down from my coffee table, please," I grumbled. He hopped down and gave me a quizzical look. He circled me a few times, eyeing me and taking in all of my details.  
"What game are you playing, Mademoiselle?" he asked me.  
"No game," I said plainly.  
"Then how is it that we've never met, but you know my name?"  
"That's why I want to speak with you!" I sighed. I opened my mouth to say more to the leader in red, but my attention was diverted to the kitchen.  
"Joly, you put those forks back in the drawer!" I shouted, rushing over to him. He had found my candle collection and had lit three, and had started to hold a fork over the fire. "Courfeyrac, please stop tearing my house apart looking for guns. You won't find any. Feuilly, you won't find any gun powder either!" I added, shoving my forks back into their rightful place, while Joly looked at me confused and worried. I groaned as I noticed that Grantaire had managed to find my bar, and had found his way to the middle of the wine I was saving for myself. I quickly yanked it away.  
"You couldn't get a glass at the very least?" I snapped. I couldn't help it at this point. I felt like I was babysitting a bunch of rowdy toddlers who had all been given too much sugar. I slammed the half-empty wine bottle onto the table, and Joly jumped. I blew out the candles and when I turned around, Grantaire was rummaging through my cabinets. "Grantaire, what are you doing?"  
"Looking for a glass. I intend to finish that bottle," he replied, nearly dropping my favourite plate to the floor. I caught it and set it on the counter by my sink and tugged at his green waistcoat.  
"No, no… You sit down now," I told him softly. "Everybody, just take a fucking seat!" I shouted. Everyone froze.  
"What strange kind of place is this? A lady that wears trousers, and uses such language?" Enjolras asked.  
"If you'd listen, I'd tell you!" I snapped. I had been through far too much in the past few months, and especially that day to deal with this calmly anymore. As angry and frustrated as I was, there was still no sign of me waking up, and it irked me.  
"Mademoiselle, there is no time! We have a battle to fight! VIVE LA FRANCE!" Enjolras growled. I sighed. I was ready to just give up. Though I typically didn't share drinks with anyone else, I found myself picking up the bottle of wine that Grantaire had cracked into, and took a big gulp. After another few swigs, I took two glasses from the cupboard, washed them, and emptied the bottle into both of them. I took a seat across the table from him and passed him a glass, then quickly downed my glass. I groaned and sighed, then smacked my head into the table in hopes of waking up. I had always thought it would be interesting and awesome to get to meet the barricade boys, but this was one hell of a nightmare that I just couldn't wake from. I continued to hit my head against the table, not ready to give up, until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up with tears in my eyes to see Grantaire. He looked worried.  
"You're going to hurt yourself," he said softly, pouring a clear liquid into my empty glass. I was a little dizzy, and I couldn't see what bottle he was holding, but I knew it wasn't water. It was likely one of my bottles of rum.  
"I just want to wake up," I groaned.  
"You're awake."  
"That… No. This is a nightmare."  
"We're all awake. This is strange to us, too… How is your house so bright without candles?"  
"Electric."  
"What's that?"  
"Don't worry about it," I sighed, downing the liquid he had poured for me. I was right. It had been my bottle of vanilla rum.  
"You drink like me."  
"I do not."  
"You didn't even make a face."  
"After the week I've had… I needed that."  
"You drink like me."  
"It's pointless to argue with a dream."  
"Not a dream… Perhaps a delusion… My delusion… Too much alcohol. Perhaps I am dead!"  
"You are," I let slip. I hadn't wanted to be so blunt about it. I had wanted to explain things to them, and speak with all of them to figure things out. To be honest, I wasn't actually sure they were dead. I knew how the book and the movie ended, but yet, they were very much alive and making a mess of my house. He poured me more rum, and I downed that as well. He did the same for himself and set the bottle down in front of me.  
"I drank myself to death, right?"  
"No."  
"Then how do you know I'm dead?"  
"I… I don't know a damn thing anymore, alright?! All I know is that all of you are characters from a book, and a musical, and now you're here, in my living room!"  
"Like an opera?"  
"Look, don't worry about it… The point is, in the movie, you all died… Every single one of you. Please don't tell the others. I want to discuss it differently with them."  
"But we all seem to be alive."  
"And that's where the problem lies, Grantaire," I groaned.  
"How is it you know my name?" he asked, looking me in the eyes.  
"The movie… I know every single one of you. Enjolras doesn't want to listen."  
"He doesn't have time to listen. There's a revolution going on."  
"Not anymore. You lost…"  
"How did… How did I die?"  
"Not now, Grantaire. Please, not now. My head hurts, and you're all destroying my house."  
"Everybody! The Mademoiselle lied! I found a gun and a flag, and an extra cockade! Commence your search for more weaponry!" Enjolras shouted.  
"Fuck!" I groaned.  
"Telling lies?" Grantaire asked.  
"No! It's a prop. Like for the movie. Just… hang on. Please don't drink all my alcohol? I don't have money to buy more, and I know I'm going to need it until I get you guys back to where you belong," I told him. He smiled and laughed.  
"Another glass?" he asked.  
"Yeah, fine. Another glass. Just one more," I told him, running to Enjolras. He pointed my gun at me.  
"Hold it right there, Mademoiselle… What kind of spy are you?" asked the blonde.  
"I'm not a spy. If you would just listen to me-" I tried to say, but got distracted as Courfeyrac and Combeferre had grabbed my arms. Enjolras continued to hold me at gunpoint, obviously unaware that it had been altered so that it couldn't fire.  
"Is this some sort of sorcery? I don't believe in these things, but yet it is light in your home with no candles, our friend Marius is encased in a glass box, it is warm in here but your fireplace is not lit, and it is snowing outside. Furthermore, your books hold words unknown to us, and some hold dark tales. My eyes deceive me not, and it seems to be witchcraft," Enjolras said.  
"Will you put my gun down and let me go?" I growled.  
"Explain, or I will shoot."  
"Enjolras, please!"  
"Ah, and that's another matter to bring up! How is it that you know our names?"  
"Look, I'll explain, just… Let me go, and put the gun down. You all need to just relax and listen to me for about an hour by the looks of it."  
"Explain now."  
"Let me go."  
"Explain this very minute, or I will have to shoot you," Enjolras said fiercely.  
"Courfeyrac, Combeferre, please let me go? We seriously all need to talk, but I don't appreciate you treating me like I'm a spy!" I snapped. I watched Enjolras' finger twitch on the trigger. After a few seconds, he examined the gun in bewilderment.  
"Friends, she must be a witch! She has seized the gun. It won't fire."  
"She definitely sounds like a witch!" Jehan said. "She even dresses strangely and hangs trinkets from her nose and lip. Her hair is of an unnatural colour, and her nails grow black. She wears intricate designs on her skin. Could they be incantations?" I groaned and rolled my eyes, pulling away from Combeferre and Courfeyrac. They went to grab me again, but I just held my hands up and they froze.  
"I'm not a witch. This is strange for me as well. There is no revolution anymore. I want you all to just sit down, please, and stop destroying my house. We need to figure things out. Please, I've been trying to talk to you," I begged. I was exhausted, and quite ready to pass out. The amount of alcohol I had consumed didn't help.  
"Enjolras, she only has one book with a French title… But the text inside is in English. I'm not sure we should listen to her. It could be a trick," Combeferre said. Grantaire stumbled over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.  
"Is it not odd, what has happened?" Grantaire asked loudly. "Do any of us understand? What choice do we have but to listen to the Mademoiselle? I believe she speaks truth. I believe there is no rush to protect our barricade, for we are nowhere near it. Our enemies are not with us…"  
"Christ, will somebody stop Grantaire? There's no time for his nonsense," Courfeyrac groaned.  
"Enjolras… This book is dated 1999… and this one, 2005. This is a trick," Combeferre said.  
"Perhaps she's a time-traveler?" Jehan suggested.  
"I repeat, our enemies are not with us! Has she harmed us? Has she given us one reason not to trust her? The gun did not work, Enjolras. Perhaps it is fake. Perhaps she knew it would be of no use, and was not lying when she said we'd find no weapons. She thinks this a dream. I think this a delusion. But perhaps we should just give her a chance and listen to her. She told us a year… It is the future. Perhaps we are all dead. Perhaps we were reborn. Perhaps this is Hell. How should we know, unless we let her speak? How can we put her on trial, and treat her as a spy? Our enemies are not with us! I see no spy here. I see a woman who is just as confused as we are. Let her speak!" Grantaire ranted. I smiled. I never thought I would be so thankful for one of Grantaire's drunk speeches.

  
\---

It took a while for everyone to settle down, but eventually they all situated themselves on my living room floor. I passed around a notebook and pen, and asked them all to write their names down, so I could get an idea of how many people I was dealing with. I read the list as soon as I got it back.  
 _Enjolras  
Grantaire  
Courfeyrac  
Combeferre  
Joly  
Jean Prouvaire  
Bahorel  
Bossuet  
Feuilly  
Eponine  
Gavroche_

  


I hadn't even noticed Gavroche until I read his name. He sat on the floor, and I saw that he had found some of the toys I kept in my studio. He clung to a little stuffed bear, and was pestering Eponine with it. I couldn't help but smile.

"Okay… Now that it's quiet in here, I've thought about it a little more. Combeferre, you pointed out the only book with a French title… This book… Well, Les Miserables, is a special book," I said. I opened to a page that had Combeferre's name printed on it, and showed him.  
"That's my name!" he gasped. I nodded, the flipped through to find Courfeyrac's, and showed him. He had a similar reaction. I showed Enjolras next, and he smacked the book from my hands.  
"What are you getting at?!" he asked, giving me a fierce look.  
"You're all characters from this book… The book has been recreated many times in many ways… Now, I want to show you something else," I said, turning the TV on. I fast-forwarded the DVD just a little, to the point where Jean Valjean takes his rest, and waited for all of them to show up on the barricade. However, after Myriel greeted Valjean, the screen simply showed the credits. I was baffled, and I hoped like hell it would at least have their names on it. As the names scrolled, I let out a sigh of relief to see "Enjolras- Aaron Tveit" come across.  
"Who is Aaron T… T…" Enjolras quit pretty fast.  
"Tveit. Aaron Tveit is an actor who portrayed your character in the movie. That's why his name is next to yours," I explained.  
"Does he look like me?" Enjolras asked. I laughed, ran to my office and pulled out an autographed photo I had of Aaron, and showed it to him.  
"What do you think?"  
"He… He could be my brother!" Enjolras gasped. I laughed a little harder. I decided to rewind the DVD to the barricade scenes in hopes of showing them where they had come from, but any spot that they belonged in was blank space. Marius rode past on a horse, and various other barricade boys ran frantically, but they weren't there.  
"Wait a minute! I remember this! Marius warned me that it had begun!" Grantaire shouted. I nodded, scanning through the scene. The barricades had been built, but the men were not there.  
"This isn't possible. I remember standing on top of the barricade!" Enjolras growled. He was obviously frustrated. I scanned through the entire scene, trying to find a hint of Enjolras' death, but there was none. I turned the TV off and sighed.  
"It looks like you came straight from the movie, which would explain why you're speaking English, with English accents, rather than French," I said. "What's the last thing you all remember?" They all sat around, thinking hard for a while.  
"I gave Marius a letter from Cosette… It was raining," Eponine said.  
"You got shot!" Gavroche told her. "I remember taunting the army… I was collecting things. They shot at me."  
"We were losing! The gun powder got wet! The citizens wouldn't help us!" Jehan exclaimed.  
"We got away… We were upstairs. It was Combeferre, Joly, Myself, and you, Enjolras," Courfeyrac said.  
"You were all shot through the floor. I remember now…" Enjolras said. I nodded. "And they had me cornered… They were about to shoot and…" he stopped talking. He gave a small smile to Grantaire and then looked to me. "Did you know all this?"  
"I've seen the movie many times… I knew. Do any of you feel pain?" I replied. They all shook their heads. "None of you seem to be wounded, either… Enjolras, may I see your chest?" I asked, blushing a little. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow, and seemed to be slightly offended. I knew I better explain. "I want to look for wounds. According to the story, you were shot several times in the chest," I said. He un-tucked his shirt from his trousers and lifted it. Though every one of them were covered in blood, and Enjolras' chest was also blood-stained, there weren't any apparent wounds. I wet a paper towel and wiped some of the blood off to be sure. He didn't even have a scratch. Still, he was solid, so he wasn't a spirit. I couldn't make sense of it. "You seem to be fine."  
"I don't understand any of this," he told me, tucking his shirt back into his trousers.  
"I don't either…"  
"I don't feel dead. I don't look dead. There's blood all over us, but we aren't wounded. I feel alive," Enjolras said.  
"You seem to be very alive," I said, reaching for his neck. He smacked my hand away and glared. "I was just going to check for a pulse," I assured him. He relaxed and let me. Sure enough, he had a pulse. "Maybe you've been given another chance at life… Which really makes no sense, because you were fictional characters to begin with… Can I tug gently at your hair?" I said.  
"Why?"  
"Aaron wore a wig…"  
"This is my hair."  
"Just to be sure?"  
"Fine," Enjolras grumbled. He wasn't too thrilled. I ran my fingers through his golden curls, tugging ever so gently, and examining his scalp. Sure enough, it was his natural hair.  
"I drank too much. I must have. Or I finally died from lack of nourishment… Or I really need to FUCKING WAKE UP!" I shouted in disbelief of the current situation. My house could not hold so many people. I didn't have enough food to feed all of them. None of it made sense.  
"This is really happening… You're not trying to hoodwink us?" Combeferre asked. I shook my head with tears in my eyes.  
"I promise. I don't understand it. It has to be a dream. I watched the movie too many times," I told him.  
"We're here," said Jehan.  
"Dude, but…" I stopped when I saw the look he gave me. "Sorry. I just… It's 2014! You're fictional characters. This can't be possible."  
"But we're here nonetheless," Courfeyrac said. I nodded.  
"I don't know where I'm going to put all of you. I only have one bed, and a couch."  
"We slept on the barricade. Your floor would be just fine," Bossuet said. I smiled.  
"I'm sorry I'm not a very good host. I wasn't exactly expecting company from fictional 1832," I sighed sadly.

  
\---

I had scrounged up as much clothing as I could find, though it was all female clothing. Luckily, a lot of my wardrobe consisted of leggings, jeans, and t-shirts. I always wore pajama pants and t-shirts to sleep, so I had an abundance. I handed them out, and gave Eponine the one nightgown I owned, and set out as many blankets and pillows as I could find. The lot of them curled up on the floor, Joly and Gavroche had curled up on the couch, and Enjolras fell asleep in my recliner. Grantaire sat at the table, staring down an unopened bottle of wine. I shook my head and put it away.  
"Save some for tomorrow, Grantaire," I told him with a joking smile. He smiled up at me and pointed to the chair across from him. I took a seat. "Thanks for having my back… If that gun had actually worked, Enjolras would've killed me," I sighed at the realization.  
"That would've been a huge mistake. I couldn't imagine anyone else aiding us in 2014. I'm sure they'd lock us in an asylum," Grantaire said. "Thank you for your hospitality and patience. You've done quite a lot for us on such short notice… More than the citizens of Paris, clearly."  
"I'm sorry about how things turned out."  
"Why?"  
"Because you all died and lost the rebellion."  
"But we didn't die. We're all alive, and here… We dreamed of a future, and now we're in it."  
"I thought you didn't dream of anything?" I asked.  
"I dreamed. I just didn't tell anyone. Nobody ever wants to hear the ravings of a drunkard."  
"Why do you drink so much?"  
"Isn't it obvious? I'm depressed."  
"I know that… Why?"  
"Well… That's pretty obvious, too… We were all going to die… And we did. But I didn't believe in a life after death, so I guess it turned out better than I thought it would."  
"Do you think you'll be happy here?"  
"With an unlimited supply of alcohol, I'll be happy anywhere."  
"Still trying to kill yourself?"  
"I'm dead already. Does it matter?"  
"But you're alive. You all made it… maybe not how you intended, but you're all alive and together."  
"Do you think we'll be happy here?"  
"I can't give you unlimited alcohol."  
"You're not happy here," Grantaire pointed out.  
"What?" I asked, taken aback.  
"You're not happy. What troubles you?"  
"Nothing," I lied.  
"Don't lie."  
"I just wasn't ready for so much company."  
"It's not just us… There's something more. What is it?"  
"I don't wanna talk about it."  
"I won't tell anyone."  
"Thanks… I just… nothing. I'm fine."  
"You have circles under your eyes… And they're bloodshot. You can down a glass of rum as well as I. You look exhausted, and you looked like you were about to lose your mind before. I'm no fool. Enjolras thinks I am, but I'm not. I see that there's something wrong. You're not doing well."  
"I just took on too much work."  
"No. Try again," he said, shooting me a small smile. I smiled back. For the first time in my life, somebody understood.  
"I'm married…"  
"You're a fool, then… Where's your husband?"  
"He's not here. I'm in the middle of a divorce."  
"I take it back. You were a fool. You came around."  
"Yeah, I did."  
"Why divorce?"  
"I don't want to talk about it. I'm just glad he finally left."  
"He hurt you."  
"No."  
"Oui. He hurt you."  
"What makes you so sure?"  
"I can see it in your eyes, and your face when you speak of him… Have another drink," he said, pouring me a glass of rum. I chuckled and rolled my eyes.  
"Drinking isn't the answer to everything, y'know."  
"But it'll make you feel good."  
"Not if I keep going like you want me to. I'll spend the rest of this crazy night with my head in the toilet."  
"Drink that, and talk to me."  
"I don't wanna talk about it."  
"Alright… Whenever you want to, I will listen."  
"Thank you… If you ever wanna talk, I'll listen as well," I said with a smile.  
"Can I… May I…" he stopped.  
"What?"  
"Do you need a hug?"  
"Since when are you in the habit of giving hugs?"  
"I never met anyone that needed it as much as you… At least, not that would accept it. Enjolras could use one, but he's too busy with the revolution to realize what he needs."  
"I'd appreciate a hug. Thank you, Grantaire," I said with a smile. He hugged me tight. He smelled of paint, alcohol, and gun powder. He was the only one that hadn't changed his clothes.  
"You're welcome, Mademoiselle," he said. He looked at me strangely. "I don't want to keep calling you that. What is your name?"  
"I'm Emily."  
"Emily… That's nice… Do you ever let your feelings out?"  
"I have nobody to let them out to," I admitted.  
"That's why you don't sleep… But… What about drawing or painting? Maybe writing? Jehan likes to write. Enjolras makes speeches. Joly studies medicine… and he checks his tongue a lot. I hope he'll be okay here."  
"I draw and paint, and I do photography… But I haven't had much inspiration lately."  
"You'll get it back. Drink up and let loose. Do you have paints?"  
"I have all sorts of art supplies. I'm surprised you didn't see them while you were raiding my bar. They're right next to the alcohol."  
"Such a rightful place! Great thinking. Let's crack open another bottle and set to work."  
"Let's rest for tonight. We've both had enough to drink, and my house is enough of a mess."  
"Let me draw something for you?"  
"Right now?"  
"Oui."  
"Why?"  
"In case we're gone when you wake up. I want you to remember that you always have someone to turn to… Someone that understands you're hurting. I want to show you something," he told me. I smiled and fetched him some charcoals and paper. "Merci," he said, and set to work immediately.  
"May I photograph you?" I asked him.  
"What does that mean?"  
"Take a picture."  
"Like, a drawing?"  
"I'll show you," I said. I stumbled over all the sleeping bodies on my floor and ran into my office to get my camera. I returned and pointed it at him, and he looked uncomfortable.  
"Is this going to hurt?" he asked. I laughed a little and shook my head.  
"No, Grantaire. It won't hurt. You won't feel a thing… Oh, unless it flashes. It might hurt your eyes a little," I told him.  
"I need to be able to see," he said.  
"It's just like looking at a flame for moment. You'll be alright," I assured him. He gave his consent, and I took a photo of him as he sketched something with the charcoals. I captured him in a new light, that I was sure he'd never seen, and I showed him.  
"How did you do that?! I'm inside this glass!" he gasped. I laughed again.  
"It's called a picture. It instantly captures whatever I see through this little glass lens, and stores it."  
"Amazing! And so much faster than painting!"  
"Yeah! And more accurate… This is what you actually look like."  
"It's like a mirror!"  
"Yeah, but the image stays."  
"I like this. Take another," he said, smiling wide. I took another. After that, he made an awkward face, and I took another and showed him. He laughed so hard he snorted.  
"This is an amazing year! So much hope!" he exclaimed. I smiled. "Tell anyone I said that, and I'll kill you," he joked.  
"Your secret's safe with me. Grantaire can have hope, too! I know he's capable of feeling. He wouldn't drink so much to numb the pain if he weren't," I told him.  
"You're the first person to understand that."  
"I've been there."  
"I know. Show me how this works. Let me take one of you."  
"No. I don't like how I look," I told him.  
"What's not to like?"  
"My face. My eyes. My hair. The circles under my eyes."  
"Why do you wear metal in your face?"  
"I like it."  
"So there is something about you that you like."  
"Yeah, but it's not exactly something I was made with."  
"There is nothing wrong with your face, eyes, hair, or even the circles under your eyes. Enjolras has circles under his eyes too... Let me take a picture of you."  
"You're not going to leave me alone until I let you, are you?"  
"Not unless I pass out."  
"Drink some more," I told him. He laughed and shook his head. "Grantaire can refuse a drink?"  
"Grantaire can do whatever he pleases," Grantaire replied. I groaned and gave in, showing him how to work the camera and let him take a photograph of me. He didn't like how it came out.  
"This doesn't look like you how I see you. I don't like it. You're much better with this thing. You made me look better than I look in the mirror, and this image was just insulting. I understand why you think you shouldn't like yourself. I assure you, you don't look like that," he growled, handing the camera angrily back to me and setting back to work on his drawing. I made hot cocoa for us and gave him a cup as he drew, and then attempted to watch him. He hid the drawing well. I sighed, taking a sip of my cocoa, and retreated to the living room to snap a few photos of the sleeping revolutionaries. If this was real, these photos would be a gem, and if it wasn't real, this would be a pleasant memory, granted I remembered once I woke up. "I'm finished. Come look!" he called for me. The drawing was done, and the cup of cocoa was empty. "What was that? It was delicious!"  
"Hot chocolate… You've never had it?"  
"Not like that."  
"It's just instant. No big deal. Water and cocoa powder."  
"Incredible. I want you to look at this long and hard," he told me, shoving the drawing into my hands. I looked down at the paper to see a much prettier version of myself. I looked happy, and my eyes shined. My lips were curled in a smile.  
"I don't look like that," I told him, flattered by his unrealistic drawing of me.  
"You do when you laugh," he told me. "I've been watching you. Every time one of us said or did something that touched your soul, you smiled… You're still there, Emily. You're not gone yet. He didn't defeat you… Keep this, and he never can."  
"You're more intelligent than anyone's given you credit for… and much more flattering."  
"There's no more fighting. My friends aren't dead… There's hope in this new age… And you understand me somehow. When I talk to you, I feel like I'm speaking to myself… You make it easy."  
"I feel the same… But my fighting isn't over."  
"I'll fight with you."  
"You don't even know me."  
"I know you well. I know everyone better than they think I do… I pay attention to detail. Nobody gives me credit, simply because I drink."  
"Edgar Allen Poe wrote some of his best stories while he was drunk."  
"You see? We are on the same page… I hope I am still here when you wake up. I think we have a purpose."  
"This isn't much like your character."  
"It doesn't need to be. We're not at war. This is something new. Why can't I be different?"  
"I like it… Think you're gonna cut back on the drinking?"  
"Probably not."  
"Then you better find a job to pay for more alcohol."  
"I have some money… Enough to last me a day or two."  
"Your money doesn't work here… It's out-dated, and from another country."  
"Pity. Let me work for you."  
"I can't afford employees. I can hardly afford myself."  
"We'll figure something out."  
"Grantaire… don't tell anyone about me, okay?"  
"You're not a secret."  
"Don't tell anyone what I told you… Or what you think you know about me. Please?"  
"You mean about your husband?"  
"Yeah."  
"I won't tell anyone a thing… I bet Enjolras would kick his ass, though."  
"I'd rather him not do that. I don't want him being arrested."  
"For that?!"  
"Absolutely. Times are different."  
"I won't tell anyone."  
"Thank you. Come get some clean clothes and get some rest."  
"I'm alright."  
"Please?"  
"Alright," he sighed, hugging me. I gave him some clothes, and once he changed, I gathered everyone's dirty laundry and set to work on cleaning it. I threw them in the washing machine, started it, and headed to bed. I figured when I woke up anyway, that all of this new life would be gone. The only person ever to understand me would be gone. I would be alone again, which was okay, but he had given me some food for thought.


	2. One More Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we find out just how strange things seem to be. Les Amis run into their very first problem... Time/Place difference. Modern technology, plus strange new foods? Can they handle all of these new ideas?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What would happen if one day, the barricade boys just appeared in our world? What if they just popped out of the TV, and came to life? Fictional characters from 1832 trying to survive in 2014 America? That doesn't sound like it'll go over too well, but it could mean quite an interesting adventure.
> 
> In this, Les Amis come to life. Will they adapt? Perhaps with enough help. Will they stay? Will they enjoy it? Maybe. Surely they serve a purpose. Keep reading to find out what it is!
> 
> This was just a little idea. I know that most people aren't fans of an OC, but I feel like there would've been no other way to pull off the idea. I plan to keep running with this, so I hope you all enjoy. Thanks for reading. Please please leave some input. Leave me suggestions. You might find your idea featured in the chapters to come!

Much to my surprise, I woke up the next morning, wrapped up in my blankets, lying comfortably on my bed. I remembered the strange dream I had had about the movie, but I was almost certain that I had fallen asleep on the couch. I shrugged it off and decided that I had probably been half-asleep when I moved to my bed. I rolled over and looked at my clock. It was 4am. I didn't need to be awake yet, and decided I'd try to fall back to sleep. That was the plan… at least until I heard hushed voices outside my bedroom door.  
"Don't wake her, Enjolras," said a very tired-sounding Grantaire.  
"Why not? I heard strange noises outside. She should know. There might be an intruder," Enjolras whispered back in a protective tone.  
"Because the sun isn't even up yet, and we were up late."  
"What were you doing up so late? This is no time to be without rest."  
"We were talking."  
"What on Earth could you be talking about?"  
"Lots of things. Just let her sleep. She needs it."  
"What about the noises?"  
"I'm sure it's nothing. If it makes you feel better, we'll sleep out here and wake her up if it's necessary."  
"Okay, Grantaire. That'll be fine," Enjolras sighed. I imagined him rolling his eyes, and taking a seat against my door, in annoyance. I smiled to myself when I saw my door jiggle a little, and knew one of them was leaning on it. It was silent for a few minutes, and then suddenly, Enjolras spoke again. "You still awake?"  
"Oui. Still worried?" Grantaire grumbled.  
"Not entirely… I wanted to speak with you."  
"About what?"  
"About our fate."  
"Why would you want to speak with me about our fate? I couldn't have much to say on the matter… As you say, I am incapable of thinking," Grantaire said. It wasn't sarcastic. He had meant it wholeheartedly, sure that it was better to speak with someone else about what was going on.  
"I did say that, didn't I?" Enjolras asked with a soft tone. He sounded hurt. "That's part of what I wished to speak with you about… You've proven me wrong quite a number of times within the past twenty-four hours. You are obviously quite capable of both living and dying, and apparently living after dying."  
"What is your point, Enjolras?"  
"I heard you speaking with the girl during the night… You are capable of thinking, and believing… But I knew that already."  
"How long have you known?"  
"Not long enough… I remember, Grantaire."  
"What do you remember?"  
"I remember what you did."  
"What is it that I did, Enjolras?" Grantaire asked, sounding curious. Enjolras had piqued his interest and earned his full attention more than he ever had before.  
"You stood with me. All our friends had fallen… You weren't a true believer, and you could have disappeared easily… But you stood with me."  
"I would have rather stood for you."  
"You stood with me, Grantaire."  
"And you took my hand."  
"Then you remember as well as I?"  
"I do."  
"Then do you understand?"  
"Enjolras, are you apologizing for how you spoke to me?"  
"Ah, you do understand," Enjolras had said with a small chortle. I couldn't help but smile as I rolled over in my bed, listening to them. I knew it wasn't right to eavesdrop, but this was truly a beautiful moment.  
"No need to apologize… I've always understood."  
"You're not as worthless as I mistook you for."  
"I'm still a drunk."  
"It'll change."  
"Oh? A sudden faith in me?"  
"I had always hoped, but my faith had dwindled… At the barricades, you restored it."  
"What makes you think it'll change?"  
"I heard what you told the girl."  
"Her name is Emily… What did I tell her?"  
"Why you drink… We are alive, Grantaire. There is a new hope for you… Not so much for me."  
"Why not for you?"  
"We lost the battle. France will surely fall."  
"It's been over 100 years… Why don't we just ask Emily what happened to France?"  
"I… I'm afraid to know."  
"Alright. I'll ask her, and I'll only tell you if it's good."  
"Why are you so kind to me after what I put you through?"  
"You weren't as bad as you think… I understand why you did it."  
"Do you?"  
"I stood with you, didn't I?"  
"You did."  
"And you permitted it…"  
"I did."  
"Thanks…" 

Everything was silent after that for quite a while, and I realized that if I got up, I would no longer interrupt anything. They had said what needed to be said. I wouldn't be intruding. I rolled out of bed and stumbled to the door, and acted just a little surprised at seeing them… for their own sakes. Enjolras had jumped and stood as he felt the door pull away from his back, and Grantaire rose a bit slower.  
"Is everything okay?" I asked.  
"I heard noises outside before… Grantaire said not to wake you," the blonde said to me.  
"What did they sound like?"  
"Slamming metal… a metallic growling… thuds, footsteps, and something indescribable," Enjolras informed me. I smiled and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
"Those noises are nothing to worry about. They were just cars… People leaving for work."  
"The sun hasn't even come up!" Grantaire said.  
"People have all different schedules."  
"What are cars?" Enjolras asked. I smiled again.  
"Cars are means of transportation. I'll show you later," I said. I looked at both of them and I couldn't help but hug them. They were both still there, and I was suddenly happy about it. As long as they didn't destroy my house constantly, they were more than welcome to stay with me. Enjolras froze, though Grantaire hugged back.  
"Yeah, we're still here," Grantaire told me softly, patting my back. I looked up at him and he smiled. It wasn't until I felt Enjolras pat me on the back and sort of return the hug that I realized Grantaire had simply spoken aloud to explain to the blonde why I had hugged them. I let go and stood straight, looking up at both of them.  
"I'm glad," I said.  
"You're not angry with me?" Enjolras asked.  
"For what?"  
"I was going to shoot you last night."  
"I know… I can't say I blame you. It has to be confusing and terrifying being thrown from a fictional world of the 1800s to the real world, over 100 years later."  
"I apologize for over-reacting. I should have listened to you. You were only trying to help."  
"And you were only trying to win the rebellion. You're forgiven, Enjolras."  
"You're kind… Thank you," he replied in a soft tone. After just a moment, he looked at me quizzically. "I know the revolution didn't happen here… But you had a cockade, a red flag, and a gun in your curtain room…" he said. I couldn't help but laugh as he referred to my studio as a curtain room. Surely he meant my backdrops. "Is there something funny?"  
"It's just… They're backdrops. But, carry on," I told him, straightening my face.  
"Are you a supporter?" he asked. I nodded.  
"Absolutely. I think it's beautiful what all of you did, what all of you stood for. Knowing that all of you died is honestly always the saddest part for me. You're all my favourite characters."  
"Who will save the people now that we're dead?"  
"You're not dead… But the people are doing alright now. This country isn't doing too great now, though… But at least we haven't yet fallen to what you're used to fighting to save," I told him.  
I'm sorry to hear that. Can we help?" Enjolras asked.  
"Not yet… You need to get adjusted, first… And we're not quite ready for a revolution, though I can only imagine if the misery keeps up, it'll only be a few years."  
"Do you think we'll still be here in a few years?" Grantaire asked.  
"I didn't even think you'd be here when I woke up… I don't know, Grantaire. None of us know. There's no way of knowing… Let's just take it as we go," I told him. "First thing's first… I need to figure out how I'm going to feed all of you on my small salary. Then I need to figure out where I'm going to house all of you."  
"Food is a good idea. It doesn't have to be much," Enjolras assured me.  
"I'll figure it out… But we're going to have to come up with a way for all of us to function together as a family or something…"  
"We already do," Grantaire said.  
"Not with me, you don't, and not in present times. I'll have to teach all of you things, and show you what you missed… But first, let's start with breakfast. Who wants to help?"  
"I'll help," Enjolras said. I smiled.  
"Good. Come, then."  
"Some wine, and I'll help," Grantaire said with a smile.  
"Not so early. We'll run out. I like to drink too, y'know," I told him. He laughed and playfully rolled his eyes.  
"Oui, Mademoiselle. If you say so," he said.  
"I do. Come now, you can cook the pancakes. Enjolras, you can scramble up some eggs, and I'll put up a pot of coffee and cook the eggs up," I said. Enjolras smiled.  
"Look at who knows how to give directions!"  
"Yep, now come on," I grinned, leading them to the kitchen. I washed all the dishes and gave Enjolras a big bowl and a dozen of eggs. I'd need to buy more, and that was going to be one hell of a shopping trip. I gave Grantaire a box of pancake mix and a measuring cup and he looked at me, baffled. I sighed and put the mix and water into the measuring cup. "Just mix this," I told him, while watching Enjolras crack the eggs. I helped him get some shells out, and turned around to Grantaire beating furiously at the batter. "No! Not so much! You'll make them chewy!"  
"But I have to get all the lumps out!"  
"No, it'll be fine. It's supposed to be like that," I told him. "Just melt some butter and pour a little in the pan now," I added. I helped them both, then made a pot of coffee. It was a little difficult trying to teach them how to do it, and they were amazed by my electric coffee pot, but Grantaire seemed to welcome the idea.  
"I smell food," Gavroche said softly, stumbling sleepily into my kitchen with his hair a mess. I picked him up and hugged him, then sat him on a barstool at my counter and flopped a finished pancake onto a plate for him.  
"Yes you do. We're cooking breakfast. Would you like some hot tea?" I said. He eyed the pancake with confused, worried eyes.  
"Did you make this?" he asked me. I shook my head.  
"I made it," Grantaire sighed. He looked ashamed of himself. "Something went wrong. I'm sorry." I was confused.  
"Is it safe to eat?" Gavroche asked.  
"Of course," I told him, setting a bottle of syrup in front of him and handing him a knife and fork.  
"Why is this crepe so fluffy, though?" he asked me. I smiled and realized where the confusion was.  
"Oh, sweetie, it's not a crepe… It's a pancake. It's a thicker batter. It still tastes good. Go on and try it," I told him. He hesitated, then took a bite.  
"It's plain. Don't you have anything to stuff it with?" he said. I poured a little pancake syrup on it for him. He took another bite and smiled. "Well, it's not the same, but I like this sticky stuff," he told me. I laughed a little.  
"I know. Us Americans are lame. We can't even make a proper pancake! They always end up so fluffy. Next time, how about you show me how to make a crepe?" I said. He smiled and pointed to Enjolras.  
"He'll teach you!"  
"Is that true? Enjolras, will you teach me how to make a crepe?" I replied. Enjolras, who was still beating the eggs because he was unsure of what else to do, paused and looked up at me. He thought for a moment, then smiled and nodded.  
"Oui. Enough to feed us all," he said.  
"Okay. Tomorrow you'll teach me how to make crepes. I'll have to go shopping today. Think you can hold down the fort while I'm gone?" I told him. I couldn't bring all of them with me out in public, and since he was used to being the one in charge, I thought it was best to leave him in charge of my house, though I was sure I would come home to a worse disaster than my house already was.  
"Of course," he said with a smile, then continued to beat the eggs.  
"Can I come with you?" Grantaire asked, setting the platter of pancakes on the table, then continued to fry some up. I nodded.  
"Yeah… You can help me get foods you're used to eating, so it'll be easier for you," I told him.

We finished cooking the food, and one by one, the friends gathered around my table. They all looked baffled by the pancakes, and the eggs went fast. I hadn't even gotten any.  
"Christ, Grantaire, drunk again?!" Combeferre asked.  
"No, why?" Grantaire looked hurt.  
"You managed to mess up the crepes!" Courfeyrac said.  
"Your batter probably wasn't thin enough," said Jehan.  
"Or maybe he forgot to swirl it in the pan," Eponine said.  
"Are they safe to eat?" Joly asked.  
"They're not crepes! They're pancakes, and they're pretty good with that sticky stuff on them," Gavroche told them all, pointing to the bottle of syrup.  
"What's a pancake? Are you sure there's nothing wrong with these?" Joly replied.  
"The food is fine, guys… It's supposed to be like that. It's American food," I said. They all hesitated, then tried the pancakes.  
"They're squishy!" Jehan laughed.  
"Did you put too much of the sticky stuff?" Gavroche asked.  
"It's called syrup," I said. "And he did… He drenched his pancakes in it. Do you want me to make you more, Jehan?" I added, laughing at the syrup-soaked pancakes on his plate.  
"No. I like it!" he told me. I smiled.  
"Okay. That's good," I said. I handed out mugs of coffee and tea to everyone, though we had to do it in turns because I didn't have enough mugs. After everyone got their fill, they thanked Grantaire, Enjolras, and myself, and dispersed around my house, trying to find things to occupy their time. I set to work on washing the dishes, until I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Eponine smiling at me, holding a plate of pancakes and eggs. I raised an eyebrow.  
"I saved you some… I know how hungry they get, and how hard it is to get food around them. You go eat. I'll wash the dishes," she told me. I smiled wide.  
"Thank you, so very much," I said, with a small laugh of disbelief, as I took the plate of food. I sat at the table and ate while she washed the dishes.  
"It's the least I could do… You're keeping us all safe," she told me. "Any idea how this happened?"  
"None… But it's okay. You're all welcome… I think I might have enough room to keep you all in the basement, but I have to clean it first."  
"How bad is it?" she asked. I shrugged.  
"No idea… I haven't been down there in months. Pretty bad, I imagine. Grantaire and I are going shopping in a little while so that I can get enough food to feed all of you… That reminds me, I need to speak to Enjolras about my customers."  
"What about them?"  
"Well, since I'm not here, I can't see them, but they can wait in my office, or come back at another time. But everyone's going to have to disappear."  
"I'll take care of it…"  
"You will?"  
"Yeah. Don't worry… We'll get this all to work. We're a family… You'll be part of that," she assured me. I smiled.

I sat with the group and formed a rather long shopping list, and then took Enjolras aside. I knew that none of this was going to be a quick process, but I had hoped he learned things quickly. I gave him a tour of the house and showed him the basement, which was in as bad of condition as I thought it was. He agreed that it would provide decent lodgings for all of them once it was cleaned. I showed him the bathroom attached to the basement, the one down the hall from the living room, and for emergencies, I showed him the one in my bedroom, and told him that it was off limits except for in an emergency. I taught him how to work the coffee pot, and he insisted it would be better for him to do it how he was used to. That was fine. Since I had lit the stove for breakfast, I had to show him how the stove worked, and how the pop-up toaster worked. I made sure to let him know not to put anything on the bread before putting it into the toaster. He seemed to be grasping the ideas pretty fast, and I was a little surprised that he hadn't yet tried to figure out how all of it was possible. I assumed he, and the rest of them, were all truly still in shock, and didn't care about how these things were possible, since their existing in 2014 itself was impossible. I was still in shock, myself. Though I was adjusting well pretty fast, it still all felt so surreal. I was really just going along with all of it because I was sure that at some point I would still wake up from the dream.  
"So I just put the food on a plate, put it in this box with the wheel in it, and press these buttons?" Enjolras asked me as I tried explaining how to use a microwave. I laughed softly. He had the general idea, but I could only imagine the fire I'd come home to.  
"Well, yeah, but each button represents a minute. If you press the three, it'll warm the food for three minutes. If you want it to warm up for only a few seconds, then you have to press 'time cook' first, and then press how many seconds, and start," I explained.  
"So twenty seconds, I press… 'time cook', 'two', 'zero'?"  
"Yeah!"  
"And what if I want to warm the food for ten minutes?"  
"Then you press 'time cook', 'one', 'zero', 'zero', 'zero', and 'start'" I explained.  
"So fifteen minutes and twenty-three seconds would be 'time cook', 'one', 'five', 'two', 'three', and 'start', right?" he asked. I smiled and nodded.  
"Yeah. But I don't think any food you'll find in this house will take that long… I have some semi-instant food in the cupboards that take about five minutes. If you want canned food, a couple of minutes will suffice… Of course, so will pots and pans. Feel free to use them. I don't want you to starve."  
"Thank you, Emily. I understand this is difficult for all of us. Certainly I never imagined this would be how the revolution would end. I wanted a better, more equal future for all… As my friends started to die, I had realized that I likely wouldn't see that future, and they definitely wouldn't… It is good of you to be so kind and generous to all of us, and extend such help so long after our barricades have fallen. Are you sure we are so welcome? We have asked too much of you."  
"You haven't asked for anything. You are welcome to stay as long as you need to. If your stay is permanent, I'll help you get used to modern times, until you can all function on your own. All I ask is that while I have customers, you're all on your best behaviour. Until you get used to things, perhaps it would be best to stay out of sight, as well, or at least keep it limited."  
"You are a good person… Is there anything we can do for you?"  
"Grantaire and I will be going shopping soon… I'd like to return to see that my house is still standing, and my furniture still intact," I said, half-joking. He smiled and nodded, paused for a moment, then took my hand, with an unsure look on his face. I raised an eyebrow.  
"I give you my word… But I meant, is there any way for us to help you? You are helping us."  
"What do you mean, help me?" I asked. He bit his lip and looked away, but still clasped my hand in his. His finger tips were rough, but the rest of the skin on his hands were smooth, and he let off a vibe that he was trying to comfort me, but was unsure if he could. He seemed worried that he was violating my personal space or hurting me.  
"I didn't mean to eavesdrop… I had a hard time sleeping, and I heard some of what you and Grantaire spoke about," he admitted.  
"What did you hear?"  
"You're depressed, like he. You don't seem to drink as much, though."  
"I work too much to drink."  
"You're dedicated."  
"Yeah."  
"Determined."  
"Yeah…"  
"You've been hurt…"  
"I… What?"  
"Somebody hurt you… I won't ask who. That is your business…"  
"Yeah… You're right," I told him. He let go of my hand.  
"I'll leave you be," he said. I realized then that he thought he had offended me.  
"No, I mean… You're right. Somebody did hurt me," I said quickly. He placed a hand on my shoulder and gripped me firmly.  
"You're strong… You're like us, a fighter. You will make it through this. You know what you want, and you'll get it. I can tell that you would fight to the death for what is right," he told me with a small smile.  
"But what's right?" I asked him.  
"Justice… Equality. Whoever hurt you… They do not have power over you. You know that, and that's what you fight for… You fight for your own freedom, and you're willing to die for it."  
"But…" I was speechless. Was I transparent?  
"You don't need to die for it. You will have it. You will be free. You may have to fight long and hard, but you will be free… I will see to it. Just stay strong. You're a fighter… when you need to be," he said, offering me a warm smile.  
"When I need to be?" I asked.  
"You choose your battles wisely, and fight only the ones that are worth it. Perhaps that is why we are here… Perhaps you need people to help you in your battle. Perhaps you are not meant to be alone in whatever struggle you are going through. You have us, Mademoiselle."  
"Please, call me Emily."  
"Emily… You are not alone. You are never alone. Even if you wake up, and we are no longer here… Surely our words will live on. You will be okay. You are strong, and you will come out victorious and free."  
"Thank you, Enjolras," I said softly, smiling and blushing. I was in shock over the pep-talk from the brave leader.  
"You're quite welcome… If you ever need anybody to talk to, please come to me. I know I can seem harsh sometimes… Maybe even unreasonable, but… it doesn't mean I don't care."  
"Thank you… The same to you. I know you feel the need to disconnect yourself sometimes, but you shouldn't. You can always come to me… It doesn't make you weak, y'know."  
"I'm not worried about weakness. It's a matter of keeping focused, and making sure everyone else is focused."  
"When things bother you, it only serves as a distraction… You can always come vent to me. I'll always listen, and help if I can.  
"Thank you," he told me. It didn't seem like he'd ever actually take me up on the offer. "Enjoy shopping. I hope Grantaire doesn't frustrate you too terribly," he added, patting my shoulder, giving me a nod, and retreating. I gathered my purse and cell phone, then froze for a moment. I quickly grabbed a house phone and ran after Enjolras.  
"Call me if you need anything, and I mean anything," I told him.  
"But how will you hear me? Is the market close?" he asked. I put the house phone in his hand and smiled.  
"This is a phone… You turn it on and dial the number. My phone will ring, and I'll answer it," I explained. He looked bewildered. "Here, I'll show you," I told him, pulling my cell phone out. I dialed my house number, and the phone rang in his hand. As expected, the startled blonde threw it across the room. He looked at me and frowned.  
"It shouted at me!" he explained. I laughed and picked the still-ringing phone up. "Why is it making that noise? What's wrong with it?"  
"Turn it on," I told him, holding it out for him. He reluctantly took it and found the word 'on', and pressed the button.  
"It stopped making noise!"  
"Indeed. Now put it to your ear like this," I told him, putting my cell phone to my ear. He did as I instructed. "Hello, Enjolras," I said into my phone. He almost threw the phone again, but simply froze and looked at me quizzically instead.  
"H-hello? Why can I hear your voice twice?" he said nervously into the phone. I took the phone away from my ear for a moment and covered the speaker.  
"Keep that phone to your ear and stay here… I'll be right back," I said. He nodded, and I walked down to the basement, then put the cell phone back to my ear. "Don't throw the phone," I said softly. There was silence for a moment.  
"How am I still able to hear you? Where are you?" I heard in my cell phone, and I also heard it echoing from the living room where I had left him.  
"It's a way of communicating over long distances… It's like a verbal letter, and it's instant. You don't need to speak so loud. Use your regular voice."  
"You'll still be able to hear me?"  
"Yeah… It picks up sound. We can hear each other… Each phone has a special code you have to press, and it connects lines so that we can speak to each other."  
"So what was that noise?"  
"It was letting you know that I wanted to speak to you."  
"Why didn't it just say my name?"  
"The phone can't speak. It makes an alert… Like when somebody comes to visit and they knock on your door..."  
"Oh?"  
"Or… Like church bells, letting you know that mass is starting?"  
"Oh! I understand! So is this how people call each other now? They don't speak face to face?"  
"Most people don't speak face to face anymore. They call each other, or send each other texts."  
"Texts?"  
"Letters sent through the phone."  
"How?! Where does the paper come out?"  
"No paper… You read it on a screen. You can't do it with the phone you're on…"  
"A screen?"  
"Like the TV."  
"That magic box that keeps Marius captive?"  
"Yes, that's the TV."  
"Why does it keep people captive?"  
"You're probably going to take this the wrong way, but it's for amusement," I sighed.  
"What?!?! And you just let that happen?! What's wrong with you?" he shouted into the phone.  
"Enjolras, relax! It's… Real people aren't inside it. Nobody is kept captive," I said.  
"Marius is a real person!" he snapped.  
"Well, technically, he's not, Enjolras. He's a made-up character from a book. He's not real."  
"Take it back! He's just as real as I am!"  
"You're not real… Well, you weren't. You are now."  
"I have always been real!"  
"Not in my world…" I sighed.  
"Then perhaps I wish I never existed in your world at all," he said. He sounded like he wanted to cry.  
"Enjolras, come to the basement, please?" There was silence on the other end for quite some time, and I thought he was ignoring me, until I heard the basement door open. He descended the stairs, looking grim. He stood, straight-faced, in front of me and simply held the phone out for me to take. I took it and turned it off, then turned off my cell phone. I set them both on the cluttered couch and took his hand, even though I knew there was a chance it would make matters worse. He pulled his hand from my grasp and glared at me. I swallowed hard. "I… This is hard for all of us. I know it's a lot for everyone to take in… I don't mean that you're not real. I just mean… Well, for us, in this world, you only existed in text… and on the screen. You were never a physical being in this world. We couldn't touch you… The actor who portrayed you, perhaps."  
"That Aaron fellow?"  
"Yeah… He is real… He isn't captive in the TV. His image is captured, like a painting, and we get to view it through that screen. But you, Enjolras… You were a character, and all we knew of you were the things the screen showed… Anything before 1832 didn't exist to us."  
"So… You don't know what I looked like as a child?"  
"Absolutely not… For us, you only existed inside that screen… For everyone else, you still do… You're only real for me right now."  
"What about Combeferre, and Courfeyrac? Or Jehan and Joly?"  
"You were always real to them. They were part of your world… If they knew you when you were five years old, they would remember that… I wouldn't."  
"You just met me."  
"That's not the point… Your entire life wasn't told. We don't know it here. Your friends, they know you best. You have always existed to them. You have always been real… tangible to them. Not in this world… Just as I never existed in your world."  
"But you are too young… We have existed since 1832."  
"Technically, you only started to exist when the book was written, but I'll let you have that one… Enjolras, think about it. Look at yourself in the mirror," I told him, pointing to a mirror on the wall that was half-covered by boxes. He looked and saw his face. "1832 was over 100 years ago. Do you look like you're over 100 years old?"  
"No. I look the same as I did yesterday… At the barricades… in 1832… in Paris."  
"Enjolras, even if you had been a real man in our world, during your time… You wouldn't be alive now. I'm so sorry, but Marius isn't real in our world, and as far as anyone else knows, neither are any of you. Do you understand?" I said in a gentle tone. I was too afraid to reach for his hand again. He was silent for a while, just looking at his reflection in the mirror.  
"I wouldn’t exist, even in my world now…" he said after a while.  
"Now… You would exist in memory," I said. He shook his head.  
"Who would remember me?" he asked, looking at me. He had the same look in his blue eyes now as he had when he heard of General Lamarque's passing.  
"Family," I said. He shook his head again.  
"I'd have none… Neither would any of them. We all died at the barricades. Not one of us would be remembered. Not one of us would exist." I bit my lip, and despite my better judgment, I pulled him into a hug. He pushed me away, and I gave him an apologetic frown.  
"Maybe not by name…"  
"What do you mean?"  
"Your story is remembered."  
"As you said, I am made up. I am not real. I do not exist."  
"You exist to me… But your story is real, Enjolras. What happened to you was based off of true events, even in my world… We call it the June Rebellion. The battle truly happened after General Lamarque's passing," I explained gently.  
"Lamarque exists in your world?"  
"Yeah… The author of the novel was from France. Real events inspired him… Lamarque was real. The June Rebellion was real. Enjolras, maybe you were real… Maybe you existed, but with a different name… Or maybe even the same name! But the names of the brave souls who lost their lives at the barricades of the Rebellion are unknown," I told him. He stared blankly and took a seat on the small area of couch cushion that wasn't covered in junk. I stood near him and placed a hand on his shoulder. I wasn't going to try to hug him again.  
"Either way, we are dead," he said grimly.  
"Not anymore, you're not. You aren't wounded. You have a heart-beat. You eat, drink, and breathe… You are alive, and you are real now. You're here."  
"I died… We all died."  
"Yeah… You all died, for a very beautiful reason. You sacrificed yourselves for the good of the people."  
"But it made no difference."  
"Not immediately… France isn't doing so badly anymore…"  
"Due to some other event."  
"Perhaps… Maybe your story was inspiration. Nobody could know for sure."  
"It's my fault so many lives were thrown away… All of us… we could have been remembered. We could have had great-great-grandchildren right now, helping their Mamas in the kitchen, or playing in the streets… Their Papas could sit them down by the fireplace after supper and tell them the story of how their great-great-grandfathers raised their great-grandfathers well… Though the men upstairs wouldn't be heroes in the story, they would be heroes to somebody… To their little great-great-grandchildren… but I stripped them of that."  
"You did not… They all agreed to fight alongside you… Who's to say that if you hadn't fought, France wouldn't have gotten worse? Maybe if you didn't take your stand, the people would have been treated even worse. Maybe your efforts stood as a warning. Nobody could know what could have happened, but we do know what did happen, and we do know that France is doing okay now. We know that the brave fighters of the June Rebellion are remembered, even in my world… and you're all here. Maybe you'll get another chance. Maybe you'll get those great-great-grandchildren now."  
"I should be dead, no matter what way you look at it… Those grandchildren cannot happen… We gave our lives for nothing," he said. I was surprised to see a tear slip from his eye and roll down his cheek. I pulled him into a tight hug.  
"It was for something… I'm sure you gave people hope. It meant something… You inspired a lot of people. Your story has inspired so many people," I whispered in his ear.  
"Inspired them to die?" he growled. He was close to crying.  
"No. Inspired them to live… Inspired them to stand up for what they believe in, and what is right… to stand up in the name of liberty, equality, and brotherhood… To fight for freedom."  
"I am responsible for all those deaths," he whimpered, as he started to cry. "I talked them into it. I gave them all false hope of a better futuuure. I led them into baaattleee. I sealed their faaates and sentenced theeem… sentenced them aaaall to deaaaaath," he cried harder. I hugged him tighter.  
"I know you feel like you're responsible, but you're not… They were capable of making their own choices. They wanted to fight alongside you because they wanted what you wanted… and you all wanted a beautiful thing that we're all still trying for. It's okay. You're all okay now. You're all here."  
"Mariuuuus iiiiiiiisn't," he sobbed. I cradled him in my arms, and he cried into my neck. I rubbed his back soothingly, rocking him gently. It was about time he let it out. I hated that he felt so responsible for their fates. I let him cry it out for a good ten minutes before trying to make him feel better. I knew he had to let it out, so I simply held him in my arms and let him. When his crying quieted a bit, I finally spoke.  
"Marius married Cosette… They probably had a bunch of little babies that grew up healthy and happy… Marius' great-great-grandchildren are probably sitting by that fireplace right now, as their Papa tells them of what their brave great-great-grandpa and all of his friends did for France. He'll tell them of the courageous leader named Enjolras, who led all of them into a battle for the people that nobody else was brave enough to fight, and held his ground even as he was surrounded, and refused to even take a blindfold… Of the artistic skeptic, Grantaire, who in the end took his place next to Enjolras, and Joly, who was all smiles… And the poet, Jehan, and of Combeferre, and Courfeyrac, and Bahorel and Bossuet and Feuilly… And Eponine, who took a bullet for their great-great-grandfather Marius… and the bravest little boy, Gavroche, who ran out to gather ammunition, and faced death without batting an eyelash."  
"You really think so?" he whimpered into my neck. I nodded gently, stroking his golden curls delicately.  
"I do… And I bet every weekend, they ask their Papa to re-tell the tale of their favourite heroes… Their family."  
"How could you know?" he sniffled.  
"We can't… But I know that if I had fought and survived the barricades, I would tell my children, and if I'm lucky, my grandchildren and great-grandchildren… And I would tell them the story so often that they would memorize it, so they could tell their great-grandchildren the tale of my friends… the heroes. I am sure Marius and Cosette did the same."  
"Is there a way we can find out?"  
"I'm sorry, but no… Not unless we somehow found out that you were true people at the June Rebellion… The book doesn't tell so far down the line… But your story is still being told, and made into movies, and you're all heroes… and I will show my great-grandchildren the movie, and tell them about my favourite heroes, even though I wasn't there… Your story is one that will be told forever, Enjolras. You will never be forgotten."  
"Oh… Do you think Marius lived a happy life?"  
"I think he did, yes… I know he was sad about your passing, and he missed all of you… But I think he lived happily."  
"That's good… Do you think we'll ever see him again?"  
"No… I don't think you will… Unless maybe you somehow go back into the movie where you came from… But I have no idea how to do that."  
"I'm sorry I said I wish I never existed here… I don't want to go back into the movie. I don't want us all to die again."  
"It's okay… You're all welcome here. You've been given a shot at a new life. All of you."  
"Are you sure Marius isn't trapped in the TV?"  
"I'm sure, Enjolras. He's not trapped in the TV… You okay?"  
"Yeah… I'm alright. Thank you for, uh… Thanks."  
"Any time… It's okay to cry and let things out. You took a lot upon yourself for the Revolution. It's good to let it out sometimes."  
"I'm sorry it had to be now."  
"Don't be. It's okay… You sure you're alright?"  
"Oui… You and Grantaire should go get your shopping done. I've held you up long enough with my nonsense"  
"It wasn't nonsense… Do you think you understand the phone?"  
"Yeah…"  
"Good. I'll write down the number you need to dial. Call me if you need me, for any reason. If there's a real emergency, like a fire, call 911, and tell them. Get everyone out of the house, and if anybody asks why you're dressed funny, tell them you came from a Les Miserables rehearsal. No questions would be asked after that… Then you call me."  
"Les Miserables?"  
"That's the movie…"  
"Oh! Okay… I can do that. What was that number?"  
"I'll write everything down for you, okay?"  
"Okay… Hey, how do you get it to go dark? We can't blow out the candles…"  
"You just flick the switches on the walls," I told him, flicking the basement light on and off a few times. I let him try, and it seemed to put him back to his normal self. We returned upstairs, and Grantaire stood impatiently by the door.  
"I've been looking for you. When are we going?" Grantaire said. I smiled.  
"Just a moment. I have to leave Enjolras some phone numbers. We'll be leaving after that."  
"Fine."  
"What's wrong?"  
"I thought you disappeared."  
"Why would I disappear?"  
"I don't know… We ended up here somehow. I don't question things anymore."  
"Okay… Are you ready to go?"  
"Yeah."  
"Okay… Wait a minute… Were you worried about me?"  
"Oui!"  
"Why?"  
"I didn't want you to be gone."  
"Why not?"  
"I'd miss you."  
"Awe, Grantaire… I'd miss you, too! Don't you worry. I'm not going anywhere."  
"I thought we were going shopping?"  
"Don't be a smart-ass. You know that I meant I wouldn't disappear on you. I'm not leaving any of you behind. We're stuck with each other now, and I wouldn't have it any other way… even if you do all destroy my house and eat my food and drink my alcohol," I told him, hugging him.  
"Awe, you like us!"  
"Yes, I do."  
"We like you, too."  
"Do you? All of you, or just you?"  
"Well, I do… Gavroche does… So does Eponine. Combeferre and Jehan are a bit too absorbed in your book collection right now to tell. Enjolras will warm up to you eventually. He likes to distance himself… I know he does it for the Revolution. Maybe now that the Revolution is over, he'll open his heart up. He could use that…"  
"We all could."  
"Are you ever going shopping? I'm hungry," Gavroche said, tugging on my hand. I hadn't even heard him approach. I smiled and nodded.  
"Yes, Gavroche. We're leaving now. Stay here with Enjolras and the others. We'll be back soon," I told him. He hugged me and ran off. I turned to Grantaire. "Ready to go?"  
"Indeed. Are you?"  
"Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> © Dawn Bonney-Heath 3/10/2014


	3. This Mess We're In...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though Enjolras is a great leader, can he really be trusted to look after Les Amis while things are so new to them all? What kind of trouble will Les Amis find themselves in while Grantaire and Emily are out shopping? What kind of trouble could Grantaire cause, if any? Just how broke will the girl go, trying to accommodate these unexpected guests, and how much worse could things possibly get?

Shopping with Grantaire wasn't as difficult as it had seemed. I had explained a lot on the way to the store. He had no issue keeping close to me, so I didn't have to babysit him. That in itself was wonderful. He was a bit confused with the idea of a supermarket, and often commented about how lovely it was that all of the shops were in one place, and you only had to pay one person. He was amazed by all of the varieties of food, and he was easily distracted. He insisted on pushing the cart, and I let him. It took a bit longer to get all of the shopping done than it would have, but I had no problem with it. I was happy to teach him. The cart was loaded with groceries, and then I led him to the pharmacy area. I grabbed enough toothpaste, toothbrushes, soaps and shampoos for all of them, and made sure to stock up also on extra towels, dishes, and silverware. He made a few comments on my choices, and I reminded him that I didn't plan on being picky on designs until I could afford to get better things for them. He laughed and apologized, then agreed that my way was better. I made sure to stock up on paper towels and toilet paper, and before I knew it, I had pretty much blown my budget. I prayed for some extra customers this week to get me through.  
"Should we get new clothes?" he asked, pushing the cart past the mens' clothing section with a raised eyebrow. I shook my head.  
"I can't afford it right now. Besides, I don't think any of you will be thrilled with today's fashion," I told him. He plucked disgustedly at a hoodie, nodded, and smiled.  
"This isn't so bad, but I don't understand that shirt… What is this for?"  
"It's a hoodie… It keeps you warm," I told him.  
"Like a sweater?"  
"Exactly."  
"It doesn't feel like wool."  
"It's cotton."  
"Oh… It keeps you warm?"  
"It's all I wear."  
"No waistcoats?"  
"Not unless you want to buy a tuxedo… but most of them don't have collars anymore."  
"And trousers?"  
"Not the same. We'll worry about clothes later. You won't be going anywhere often, so we'll just keep what you have nice and clean… I'll get you all some underwear and socks, though. Help me pick it out," I told him. He was baffled by boxers and briefs and had less of an idea than I did on what to get the group.  
"How do you wear these?" he asked me, holding up a package of boxer-briefs. I smiled.  
"Like the man on the package… You just slip your legs in. You wear them like trousers…"  
"Under your trousers?"  
"Yep. It's not so complicated. You'll see as soon as you try them on. Grab a couple of packages."  
"What size?" he asked. I bit my lip. It would have helped to take all of their measurements. After a few moments, I shrugged.  
"No clue. You're pretty thin. Try a medium, I guess," I sighed. He smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder.  
"It's not a big deal. If they're too big, we'll take them in. If they're too small, we'll make them bigger," he told me, setting a few packages in the cart. I smiled and nodded, then grabbed a package of underwear and a few bras for Eponine, though I truly had no idea about her size. I grabbed plain socks for everyone, then dragged Grantaire to the kid's section to get underwear and socks for Gavroche. I grabbed him a colouring book from the toy aisle, just in case he ever wanted to join Grantaire and I in an art night event.   
"You all know how to sew?" I asked.  
"Some of us," Grantaire replied. I smiled, with a genius idea. It would save money, and keep them out of trouble.  
"Perfect," I said, leading him to the crafts aisle. I flung cheap fabric and packages of stuffing, along with some thread, into the cart.  
"What's all this for?"  
"You're all going to make your own pillows!"   
"What about the ones we used last night?"  
"There weren't enough for everyone… Now we won't have to worry about that."  
"What about blankets? How will we keep warm?"  
"I keep the heat pretty high… If you want, I can send a few of you out to chop some firewood… I could call Enjolras right now to let him send a few."  
"Your house was warm last night, but it didn't look like you used your fireplace in months."  
"I have a different kind of heating unit… It warms the entire house, without burning wood. But I figured to make you all more comfortable, I could put the fireplace to good use," I explained.  
"That's kind of you… Perhaps tomorrow. I wouldn't bother Enjolras right now. He's so confused by everything."  
"You all seem to be grasping things pretty quickly, Grantaire. I think you'll settle here nicely in no time."  
"You make it easier… You explain things. I'm sure that without you, we probably would have been dead already."  
"Maybe not quite yet, but I'm sure you'd have already been arrested… Did we get everything?" I replied. He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his waistcoat, un-crumpled it, and read it, furrowing his brow in concentration. After a few moments, he nodded.  
"Everything has a check mark next to it."  
"Good. I have just one more stop after this, then," I told him, pushing the cart to a self-checkout line.  
"Now what do we do?"  
"We scan each item and put everything into bags. After I pay, we'll take the bags back to the car."  
"Where's the clerk?"  
"This computer…"  
"Computer?"  
"Another time, Grantaire. Just watch, and learn."  
"Okay," he said, watching me intently as I scanned and bagged some items. "Can I try?"  
"Sure, go ahead," I said, smiling and moving aside. It was amusing to watch him struggle with trying to get the scan to compute, but after a while, he got the hang of it. Ten minutes later, everything was bagged, and he watched me pay for the items. I definitely wasn't thrilled with the bill, but it would have to do. They were my priority now, and I still didn't know how that happened. I went from single almost-divorcee to Les Amis babysitter in what felt like the blink of an eye. I wasn't happy that I was thrown into so much pressure, but I was sure that something good would come of this, besides getting to have these wonderful people in my life.   
Grantaire helped me load all of the bags into the car, and then we headed to the next destination. Since he was so helpful, I decided I'd treat him to a bottle of wine from my favourite liquor shop. He was too delighted with the varieties of alcohols the shop had to offer, and I swore to myself that he was determined to run his fingers over every single bottle in the store. I had to tug him away at one point, because people were starting to stare. I grabbed a few different affordable bottles of wine and let him choose. I was happy that he had chosen my favourite. We seemed to have the same taste in a lot of things. As I paid for the bottle, my cell phone rang, and panic ran through me immediately. I handed Grantaire the bottle in the brown paper bag and told him not to open it until we got home, as I read the screen. Sure enough, 'home' was calling. I bit my lip and took a deep breath, ushering Grantaire to the car, and popping the wine into the trunk. It took a lot to muster up the courage to answer the phone, when I knew it would be Enjolras on the other end, with some sort of news about my house burning down, or my office being destroyed.  
"Hello?" I asked, nervously into my cell phone. Grantaire stared at me, baffled.  
"Why are you talking into that tiny piece of… whatever that is?" he asked. I held a hand up to hush him so I could hear Enjolras speak.  
 _"What took you so long to answer?!"_ Enjolras growled on the other line.  
"I was paying for something. Is everything alright?" I replied. I noticed that Grantaire was watching me intently.  
 _"No,"_ he answered. Just what I was afraid of.  
"What's wrong?" I asked.  
 _"How big is your house? I can't find Lesgles."_  
"Well, there's the main floor, the upstairs, the basement, and the attic… Have you checked all of the rooms?"  
 _"I'm still searching. He's got to be here somewhere, right?"_  
"I'm sure he is. You're normally calm. Why are you panicking?" I replied. I could hear it in his voice, and it wasn't in his nature. Grantaire perked up.  
"Is that Enjolras?" he asked. I nodded. "Where is he? How are you speaking to him?"  
"He's still at home, Grantaire… We can speak through the phones…"  
"Can I speak with him?"  
"Not right now."  
"Why not? What's wrong?"  
"Lesgles is missing. Enjolras is panicking," I explained. Grantaire looked worried.  
"Enjolras doesn't panic," Grantaire informed me. I bit my lip, realizing that Enjolras hadn't yet answered my question.  
"Enjolras… Why are you panicking?" I asked again. I heard a sniffle, and a crack in his voice.  
 _”I can't find Bossuet. I told you already,"_ Enjolras said. It sounded like a whimper.  
"I know. I'm sure he's around the house somewhere. Why are you panicking?" I replied in a soft tone, hoping to calm him. Enjolras remained silent. "Enjolras, talk to me…"  
 _"He's not here… What if…"_  
"What if, what?"  
 _"What if… he's gone?"_  
"I'm sure he's around, exploring the house… Just relax. Check each room… Have everyone search for him, okay? Have you tried calling his name?"  
 _"Oui! He didn't answer! We're all looking, Emily! He's not here."_  
"Okay… All of you, just sit tight, in the living room, okay? Grantaire and I will be home soon. We'll help you look. Just stay calm. You're good at that."  
 _"If we were back home, I wouldn't worry… But… we don't even know how we got here. What if he's gone?"_  
"If he's gone, maybe he's back in the movie," I suggested.   
_"Does that mean we'll all go back?"_  
"I don't know, Enjolras. Your guess is as good as mine. Just sit tight with everyone, and we'll figure things out when we get home, okay?"  
 _"Okay… If we all disappear, I'm sorry for wasting your money."_  
"Everything's returnable, Enjolras. Don't you have any worries about me. Just relax. Stay together so nobody else disappears, okay? We'll find Bossuet."  
 _"Okay…"_ he squeaked, and the phone clicked. I put my phone in my pocket and climbed into the driver's seat. Grantaire climbed into the passenger's seat, and looked at me with concerned eyes.  
"What's going on?" Grantaire asked, as I started the car.  
"Bossuet's gone missing, and Enjolras is worried that he disappeared completely," I explained.  
"Is that a possibility?"  
"At this point, anything's a possibility, but let's just keep calm. We'll get home, and we'll look for him, okay?"  
"Maybe he's gone to look for Musichetta?" Grantaire offered.  
"Musichetta?" I asked. It had been a while since I read the book, and had completely forgotten.   
"His mistress."  
"Oh! Right… Maybe…" I said. I found it interesting that she still existed to them, though she had never been mentioned in the movie. It seemed that even things that were left out in the movie may have actually still occurred. It got my brain working overtime, as I drove off toward home. "Hey Grantaire…"  
"Yeah?"  
"How did you die?"   
"You know how I died…"  
"Tell me anyway?"  
"Why would you want me to relive it?"  
"I can't really explain… I guess you don't have to answer if you're not comfortable with it, but I was curious about the whole experience," I told him. He smiled slightly and nodded.  
"Sure… I'll explain… but don't tell anyone else, okay?"  
"Okay. You have my word."  
"I had been drinking… and I woke up the same way I awoke most days… except things were too quiet. I stood from my table, and I saw Enjolras, surrounded by enemies. He stood by the window… The way the sun was shining on his hair, I was sure he was dead already… an angel… But they asked him if he wanted to be blindfolded, and he refused. He wasn't dead yet… He would be soon," he explained. My head was spinning, trying to process it. "I'm not sure if I actually spoke anymore, but I remember the words 'Long live the Republic'… If I didn't say it, I had wanted to… I crossed the room to join him, and I stumbled a little on some bodies. I think they were Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Joly, but I tried to forget immediately. I didn't want to see them like that. I can't remember if I spoke at all, actually… But I think I asked them to kill me instead of Enjolras, or with him… and I looked at him, asking him for permission… If I didn't speak, again, I had wanted to. I thought it. I wanted it to be me instead of Enjolras. He should have lived… But he smiled at me. He actually smiled at me…" Grantaire stopped talking, and sat there with a satisfied smile on his face. I couldn't help but smile a little as well. "I had disappointed him so much, but he smiled, and he took my hand."  
"He took your hand?" I asked. That part had definitely not been in the movie, no matter how much I wished it had. I wasn't sure what was going on. Grantaire nodded and smiled a little more.  
"Oui… He smiled at me, and he took my hand… After that, everything was surreal. I think I heard gunshots ring out, but all I felt was his hand on mine. That's all I needed to feel, and all I wanted to feel. I finally had his approval of _something_."  
"You were brave."  
"Brave? No. I had wanted to die so often anyway… Enjolras said I wasn't capable of dying. I guess I proved him wrong."  
"You proved yourself to him. You stood with him. I don't care what you say, Grantaire. That was brave, and honourable."  
"Merci… When I woke up, we were in your living room… All of us. We couldn't remember at first. We forgot the battle… We could only think about building the barricades. Sorry for trying to steal your couch."  
"It's okay… Did you wake up holding hands?"  
"No… I woke up at his feet. I thought I was just drunk again, and I think he thought so, too. He didn't seem very pleased with me."  
"Sorry."  
"So… did I actually speak?" he asked me, curiosity planted all over his face. I bit my lip.  
"To be honest, I found your words very intriguing… See, the movie and the book have a lot of differences…"  
"What does that have to do with what I asked?"  
"In the movie, you didn't speak. You looked like you wanted to, but you were both silent… In the book, however, you said everything you told me you thought about saying."  
"Did he take my hand?"  
"In the book."  
"Not the movie?"  
"Not the movie…"  
"Did he not permit it in the movie?"  
"Oh, he permitted it, Grantaire… He just didn't take your hand."  
"Why not?"  
"I don't know, my friend."  
"Am I really your friend? So soon?"  
"I've known you longer than you've known me… You kept me company on sad nights. I'm honoured to actually get this opportunity, no matter how fucked up it is."  
"I'm sorry about the sad nights… I would have shared a drink with you if I could have."  
"You did. Don't worry…"  
"Why'd you ask me about my death?"  
"I already told you."  
"I'm no fool… You were thinking about something. What?"  
"Well… You mentioned Musichetta…"  
"What about her?"  
"I had almost forgotten she existed, because it's been so long since I read the book."  
"And the movie?"  
"She's not in it… not even mentioned."  
"Well, that's rude! Lesgles and Joly love her."  
"Yeah… Well, the movie doesn't just focus on Les Amis de l'ABC… There's so much more."  
"Oh… Did you see us as children?"  
"No… Well, we saw Cosette and Eponine as children."  
"This is one really fucked up situation, isn't it?"  
"You can say that again!"  
"Are we almost home? I'm worried about Lesgles."  
"About five more minutes," I told him. My phone started to ring again, and I bit my lip, worried once more. "Can you answer that?" I asked him. He raised an eyebrow. "Take it out of my pocket, click the 'Talk' button, and speak."  
"Your pocket? Are you sure?"  
"Yes, Grantaire, please!" I snapped. He looked nervous. I rolled my eyes and sighed, shifting in my seat and taking one hand off the wheel to grab the phone. I clicked speakerphone and handed it to him. "Hello?"  
 _"We found Bossuet!"_ Enjolras said, sounding worried still.  
"Enjolras, are you inside that screen?!" Grantaire gasped.  
"Grantaire, shh. I'll explain later… Enjolras, where was he?"  
 _"He was outside… Will you be home soon?"_  
"What's wrong, Enjolras?"  
 _"He's not waking up."_  
"Shit. FUCK!" I growled, slamming my fist into the steering wheel, and accidentally honking the horn. Grantaire nearly jumped out of his skin, and curled up on the seat, clutching his chest, glaring at me and trying to catch his breath. "Sorry. Fuck! I…"  
 _"What the hell was that?!"_ Enjolras asked.  
"That would be my car. I accidentally honked the horn. Sorry for the fright!" I sighed. "Listen, Enjolras… We're about three minutes from home. Did you move him from where you found him?"  
 _"No… I'm on your front porch. Hurry, please. He's wounded, and it's cold…"_  
"Is he breathing?"  
 _"Oui."_  
"Good. Just leave him where he is. Don't try to move him… Get a blanket from inside and cover him up. Keep your hand on his wrist and check his pulse. I'm turning the corner now. We'll be there in a moment," I told him. I heard the phone click again, and turned mine off, then sped up on the street until I got to my driveway, and pulled in sharply. I pulled the keys roughly from the ignition, jumped out of the car, slammed the door and bounded up the stairs of my porch, as Eponine carried out a blanket. It was obvious that Enjolras had been fighting back tears. I pulled him into a quick hug, then knelt down beside Bossuet. "Grantaire, bring everything in, please, and anything cold in the refrigerator, and frozen in the freezer. Don't crack the wine open just yet. I don't think we'll be home for very long," I called out, looking over the unconscious man on my front porch. I grabbed his wrist and checked his pulse. He was definitely still alive, thankfully, but he had hit his head hard enough to bleed, and knock himself out.  
"Do something," Enjolras said.  
"Enjolras, I don't mean to be rude, but what the _hell_ do you think I can do about it?" I snapped, placing my head on Bossuet's chest to listen to his breathing better. I looked up at the blonde, and he looked upset and offended.  
"I don't know… Just, something. You're the one with the magic!"  
"I don't have magic, Enjolras. I have technology, and the kind I have isn't going to help him right now, except to call for an ambulance," I told him. I had thought about calling for one, but I wasn't sure how that would end. I couldn't leave them alone. That was obvious. I had decided to see what I could do for him first, and if I couldn't do anything, we'd definitely be taking a trip to the hospital.  
"Then what good is it?" Enjolras growled.  
"Shit. Which one of you was the medical student, again?" I replied, ignoring his comment.  
"Joly," Eponine said, with a worried look on her face.  
"Go get him?"   
"Of course," she said, retreating to get Joly. She came back with a man truly stricken with panic. This was going to be awful. Joly rushed to Lesgles' side and immediately felt for a pulse.  
"We need to clean his wound," Joly said.  
"Stay with him. I'll be right back," I said, nodding and standing.  
"Can we bring him inside? It's freezing out here!" Eponine said.  
"No. We can't move him right now. Just keep him warm with blankets. I'll be right back," I said again. I rushed inside to grab my first aid kit, and sprinted back out to them, slipping on some ice, and nearly falling over myself. I caught my balance and handed the kit to Joly. He searched through it frantically, with shaking hands and I sighed, taking the kit away from him. He was obviously too shaken up over the ordeal. I grabbed a cotton ball and poured alcohol onto it, then wiped gently at the wound, washing the blood off. It didn't seem as bad as I thought it had been, though I was pretty sure he would need stitches. I bandaged him up for the time being, and Joly checked under his eyelids, and in his mouth. He placed his head on the man's chest, and seemed to be taking mental notes. Bossuet coughed, and Joly jumped up, shocked. A groan came from the man under the blanket.  
"Lesgles, you okay?" Joly asked softly. Bossuet groaned again.  
"Jolllly?"  
"Oui."  
"I'm alright."  
"What happened?"  
"Just my usual bad luck…"  
"Can you see okay?"  
"Not really. It's so bright."  
"Can you sit up, nice and slow?"  
"Oui… I think so," said Lesgles, reaching out. Joly took one hand, and I took the other, and Lesgles slowly and carefully sat up. Joly set a gentle hand on the back of his head to support his friend's head and neck.  
"Can you see better now?"  
"A little… I feel faint, Joly."  
"Alright. Deep breaths. Just sit here for a little bit."  
"I'm cold."  
"I know. Let's wrap this blanket around you differently now that you're sitting," Joly said, taking the blanket from him and draping it around his back and shoulders. Bossuet pulled it closed in front of him and huddled up inside it. "What happened, Bossuet?"  
"I slipped on some ice… I hit my head on the banister, I think."  
"That sounds like you."  
"Don't I know it?" Bossuet laughed lightly. "My head hurts."  
"You hit it pretty hard. You have a good gash on your forehead," I told him.  
"We heard a thud, and I couldn't wake you up," Enjolras said, concerned. Gavroche came outside with a mug and handed it to the wounded man.  
"Grantaire made you some tea to keep warm and hydrated," Gavroche said.  
"Many thanks to Grantaire," Bossuet said, curling up with the mug of hot tea and sipping it carefully. "And to you as well, Gavroche." Gavroche nodded and turned to me.  
"And a message for you, Mademoiselle," Gavroche told me. I raised an eyebrow. He held his hand out, and I assumed he expected change to deliver the message. As I searched my pockets, Enjolras scolded him gently. "I'm just joking, Enjolras… Grantaire wanted me to tell you that he put all the food away as you asked."  
"He's really stepping up," Enjolras said in disbelief. I smiled.  
"Thank you, Gavroche… Give my thanks to Grantaire as well, and please help him gather everyone. We may need to take Lesgles to the hospital." Gavroche nodded and ran inside.  
"I can take care of him," Joly said.  
"Not while your hands are shaking, you can't. He might need stitches, and he should be looked after to make sure he doesn't have a concussion anyway," I told him.  
"Where'd _you_ go to medical school?" Joly pouted.  
"I didn't. It's common knowledge."  
"Fine. I'm going to check his wound first. It might not need stitches," he retorted, lifting the bandage from his friend's face. "Or… y'know, he might need stitches," he sighed, replacing the bandage. "Can you stand? It's probably a long walk to the hospital."  
"I don't want to go to the hospital," Lesgles said.  
"You need to be looked after."  
"I've got you, Joly."  
"We've been through a lot these past two days… I don't know that I'm capable. For all I know, they could wave a magic wand over your head, and you could live forever!" Joly exclaimed. I chortled, and he shot me a glare.  
"There are no magic wands that make you live forever… Not that I know of, anyway… We'll have to take the bus in, since I can't fit all of you in the car. Let's get inside so we can cover all our bases. It's going to be different for you all to interact with people. They're going to ask a lot of questions," I said. We helped Lesgles inside, and sat him on the couch, while everyone gathered around Enjolras. He looked at me, baffled, and said nothing, then looked at them, bit his lip and sighed.  
"Emily's gonna take this one," Enjolras said. He seemed ashamed. All eyes turned to me, and I blushed. I wasn't ready for this. I couldn't even do public speaking in high school. Now that things were calm, and quiet, I could feel myself freaking out internally. This was Enjolras' job, not mine. I froze, and I guessed he could tell I was terrified, because he took my hand and held it, offering me a warm, comforting smile. I smiled back, and he nodded in approval and encouragement. I looked to all of them.  
"Thanks, Enjolras… We need to take Lesgles to the hospital. Obviously things are very different from what you've known… We're going to be in front of a lot of people asking questions, so we gotta get our story straight now."  
"I slipped on ice!" Lesgles said.  
"Indeed you did… But why are you all dressed like that?"  
"Like you said before… We're actors! We came from a Les Miserables rehearsal!" Enjolras said with a smile. I smiled wide.  
"Good… But why are you all acting so strangely?"  
"Great after-party," Grantaire offered. I rolled my eyes.  
"We're all just really worried about our friend. Stress and fear can confuse you," Joly said. I smiled.  
"That's better… Now, if they ask for names?"  
"Jehan," said Jehan.  
"Courfeyrac," added Courfeyrac.  
"No. Not your real names… People will think you're nuts… Except for Jehan. Jean is a perfectly normal name… I'm mostly concerned about Bossuet, but you should all have back-up modern names to be safe."  
"Jean for me," said Jehan.  
"Alright. Think of a last name. Don't you dare use Prouvaire. We don't need people catching on that you are who you're dressed like. That won't end well. You'll all end up in the psych ward."  
"Emily… We don't know any modern names," Enjolras said. I bit my lip. I was starting to do that a lot, and it had only just occurred to me that my lip was starting to hurt.   
"Okay… I'll just try to pick something that's easy to remember… Something that sounds similar, or starts with the same letter or something… Or you could use your respecting actors' first names," I said. "Enjolras, I don't think there's anything close to yours," I added. I was trying hard to make this work as fast as possible. I wanted to get Bossuet to a doctor quickly, and the city buses weren't always a quick thing. Combeferre pulled a small book from my bookshelf and nudged me.  
"Will this help?" he asked, showing me a baby name book that I had, for when I had planned to write a story. I nodded.  
"Yes. Search through that for some good names, while I try to think… Joly, you could probably just use Joel," I replied. He shrugged and nodded. Combeferre browsed through the book, frantically turning the pages. He went straight from the B's to the L's. I looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Lesgles… Do you like Lee or Les better?" I asked. Lesgles looked up at me.  
"How do you spell Les?" he asked.  
"L-E-S."  
"That one. We'll go with Les," he said with a small smile. "I'm so sorry about this, Emily. This is probably going to cost a lot. I swear, I'll pay it back!"  
"Don't worry about it, Les," I said to him, hoping to help get him used to his 'modern' name. I didn't like doing it. They were given names for a reason, but in public, it had to be done. "Shit! Insurance!" I cried out, as it dawned on me that they wouldn't have any insurance coverage.  
"Insurance?"   
"Yeah… to help pay for the bills… Uhhhh, give me a minute. Let me think. Let me think. Somebody, get him bundled up while I think," I said, pacing my living room, muttering to myself. 

What would I do for insurance? I was really at a loss now. He wouldn't be covered, and I truly wouldn't be able to afford it. I couldn't leave it to him, and I absolutely wouldn't let him go untreated. He lived again for a reason. I wasn't going to let him die. I was sure he would be fine, but he needed to be checked anyway. I wasn't going to take any chances.   
"Why don't you just take him?" Enjolras said to me. "We're wasting time. He needs a doctor's care. His head is still bleeding, and he's having a hard time concentrating."  
"What am I going to do with everyone else?" I asked. Even if insurance wasn't the problem, I couldn't leave everyone alone.  
"I'll watch them."  
"Like you watched him?" I snapped. I hadn't meant to. I was just really overwhelmed and worried, and I regretted it immediately. He stood straight, and he looked at me like I had slapped him across the face. I shrunk down, and let the man tower over me. I waited for a lecture.  
"I…" he stopped talking and turned to walk away with a sigh. It was the softest he had spoken yet, and what was worse was that it was obvious that for once, he had nothing to say.  
"I'm sorry, Enjolras."  
"No. You're right… I can't be trusted to watch them. We'll all go," he sighed. My heart hurt. I frowned and took his hand.  
"I didn't mean it like that… You're a great leader, and you're so intelligent and responsible. It's just…" He looked down at me, and his brow softened.  
"I'm a great leader, alright. I'll lead everyone to a surefire disaster."  
"That's not true."  
"Twice now, it is true. I got us all killed, and my lack of thinking got Lesgles injured."  
"Lack of thinking?"  
"I assumed, since we were all adults, I didn't really need to keep too much of an eye on everyone. I just had to make sure they didn't mess up your house, or use the micro-wavey-thing for too long… I didn't think it meant that they shouldn't leave my sight, or go outside without a friend."  
"And that's perfectly logical thinking. I didn't think this would happen either."  
"I should've figured something would happen to him. That boy has some terrible luck."  
"Okay. So from now on, we'll use the buddy system," I told him.  
"Buddy system?"  
"Nobody goes anywhere without a friend."  
"I like that."  
"Good… and I think I have an idea for the insurance. Is Les all bundled up?"  
"Oui. What's your idea?"  
"Well, I'm a photographer… You all just came from rehearsal for the play… But Les works for me as well."  
"Works for you how?"  
"Well, he helps me around the office."  
"Sounds good. Can we go now? He doesn't look so good."  
"Have you figured it out yet? We need to get going! Bossuet's not feeling so good," Combeferre said, approaching us, a little bit frantic.  
"Yeah, we're ready to go. Let me just grab bus fare," I said, grabbing my change jar from on top of the book shelf.  
"Great. We'll think of our new names along the way," Combeferre said. I led everyone out, and a few of them carried Lesgles carefully out the door and down the steps. They all followed me down the driveway, and then down the street. Enjolras called out their names as we walked to make sure everyone was present. I walked close to Lesgles to go over the plan with him.  
"Okay, Lesgles… You work for me, okay?" I told him. He looked at me with a puzzled look on his face.  
"I do?" he asked. "What do I do?"  
"You're my assistant."  
"What do you do?"  
"I'm a photographer."  
"Oh… What's that?"  
"I take pictures."  
"Like Grantaire?"  
"Kind of… Just tell them you help me with equipment and paperwork. They don't need to know details."  
"Oh… Okay."  
"I'm gonna ask you some questions, okay?"  
"Oui."  
"What's your name?"  
"Lesgles…"  
"Your modern name."  
"Les?"  
"Yep. Les. How do you spell that?"  
"L. E… S?"  
"Good. Combeferre, try to find him a good last name," I said. "What's your current occupation, Les?"  
"I'm a photo…grapher?" he asked. I shook my head. "No. You're the photographer."  
"Right. What do you do?"  
"I'm in Les Amis de l-"  
"No. Not that one."  
"Oh. Right. Sorry… You're the photographer. I'm your assistant…"  
"Why are you dressed like that?"  
"I dress like this all the time?"  
"Try again."  
"Well, on rehearsal days, I do…" he remembered.  
"That's a good save. What are you rehearsing?"  
"Les Misérables?"  
"Perfect. Hey Les, how old are you?"  
"I'm sorry… I don't recall. Did we go over that yet?" he replied. He looked sad.  
"No, sweetie. We're not changing your age. Just your name and occupation, okay? You're doing great. How old are you?"  
"I'm 29, Mademoiselle."  
"Good… What's my name?"  
"I don't remember."  
"Is it because you hit your head, or you just can't remember?"  
"I don't know," he admitted softly, blushing lightly. I smiled and took his hand.  
"You're doing great. It's okay… My name is Emily."  
"And I'm Les."  
"Yes, you're Les. Got a last name for him, Combeferre?"  
"Not yet, Mademoiselle!" Combeferre called, from somewhere in the back of the group.  
"How about Jacobs?" I asked. It was a name plastered on the mailbox we had just passed, and it didn't sound so terrible.  
"Okay," said Bossuet.  
"Les Jacobs, 29. Photography assistant, plays Lesgles in Les Misérables. How'd you hurt yourself?"  
"I slipped on ice."  
"Why are all these people with you?"  
"They're my friends."  
"Why else?"  
"We all died."  
"Incorrect."  
"Sorry."  
"It's okay. Relax."  
"Don't you think you're putting a lot of stress on him? He's hurt!" Joly said.  
"I'm sorry, Joly. I don't want to, but they're going to ask these kinds of things."  
"We came from rehearsal," Bossuet said.  
"Yeah, you did. Okay, Lesgles. You can rest your brain now, okay?" I told him. He nodded and smiled. I was annoyed that the bus stop was so far away at this point.  
"What's my name again?" Joly asked.  
"You're Joel."  
"How do you spell that?"  
"J. O. E. L."  
"J.O.E.L… Joel," Joly said. He had a hard time pronouncing the J.  
"There you go!" I prided him on his efforts. I noticed that Combeferre was hardly watching where he was walking, since his nose was stuck in the book. I held onto his arm to lead him, and he looked at me in confusion for a moment, then smiled and continued reading.  
"I quite like Ferdinand for myself," he told me. I smiled.  
"Ferdinand?" I asked. He shrugged and smiled.  
"You can call me 'Fer'… It'll do… We'll find more names soon enough. As long as Lesgles is covered, that's all that matters, right?"   
"Right," I said, stopping. Everyone stopped and looked at me.  
"Come now. There's no time to stop. He needs a doctor," Enjolras said, tugging gently at my arm.  
"This is where the bus stops," I told them, looking at my cell phone. "And it should be arriving within the next two minutes. Pay your fare, and take a seat, if you can find one. If not, just stand, and hold on tight to the bars," I added, handing each of them their change. "Try to stay close together, and if we get stuck in a big group, hold a friend's hand. No getting split up. Any questions?"  
"What's a bus?" Jehan asked.  
"It's like a car, but bigger… There are a lot more seats, and anyone can ride it."  
"I'm still confused about cars," Bahorel said.   
"I'll explain when we get back home. From now on, we're all on the buddy system though, okay?"  
"The buddy system?" Courfeyrac asked.  
"Nobody goes anywhere without a friend."  
"I'll be Bossuet's buddy!" Joly said. I smiled.  
"Okay, Joly… Everyone is everyone's buddy, but you can pick specific buddies for things too, I guess."  
"Oh, did I do it wrong?"  
"Not necessarily. That's one pair."  
"I'll pair up with Jehan," said Combeferre.  
"I've got my brother," said Eponine, hugging Gavroche close to her side.  
"Grantaire and I have much to talk about," Enjolras said. "He'll stay with me," he added, then looked at Grantaire. "If you permit it." Grantaire smiled and nodded, then took his hand.  
"Buddy system," Grantaire said. I smiled wildly.  
"I'll pair up with Courfeyrac," Bahorel said. I bit my lip, realizing that Feuilly didn't have a buddy.  
"Eponine… I think you and Feuilly should pair up. Everyone will keep an eye on Gavroche," I said softly. Eponine smiled and nodded.  
"I like that better. I don't want anything to happen to Gavroche again," she said, taking Feuilly's hand.  
"Does everyone have a buddy now?" I asked, taking Gavroche's hand in my own. I heard a lot of 'Oui's, and I smiled. We had it figured out just in time. The bus rounded the corner and pulled to a stop in front of us. The group looked at it in awe. I told the bus driver that we were escorting our injured friend to the hospital, and he made sure that Bossuet and Joly got seats next to each other. The rest scattered around the bus, but stayed close together. By the time our group had climbed aboard, the bus was packed. There were no seats left, so I stood by Bossuet and gripped the bar tight. He tried to get up, and Joly and I had to convince him to remain seated.  
"She is a lady. I should give her my seat," Lesgles said.  
"Les, don't worry about it. You're injured. You're the priority… and Joel's going to keep an eye on you. I'm right here. I'll be fine. The hospital is only a few minutes away. How are you feeling?"  
"I'm feeling alright… I don't see the big fuss. I have rotten luck. I am used to this sort of thing."  
"That may be, but I'm pretty sure you need stitches. Joel, how's his wound?" I replied, setting a hand on Bossuet's, to comfort him. Joly examined Lesgles' forehead and sighed.  
"It's still bleeding. Do we have any more bandages with us?" Joly replied. I shook my head.  
"No. He'll be alright. It hasn't soaked all the way through yet, anyway."  
They all seemed to handle the bus ride pretty well. They were silent, like the rest of the passengers, aside from Bossuet, Joly, and myself, and didn't ask any questions. Joly and I made sure to keep Lesgles talking and wide awake, and Joly often felt for his friend's pulse. After a while, Enjolras approached and tapped me on the shoulder.  
"Emily, take my seat," he said softly. I shook my head.  
"We'll be there in just another moment. I'm fine. Thank you," I told him. He gave me a pat on the shoulder and returned to his seat. I watched as the hospital came into view.


	4. It's Like We're Undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Bossuet's injury, the friends are faced with an emergency. Entirely unprepared and unused to the current times, they're forced to come up with modern day covers of themselves, but can they stay in character? Bossuet's health is checked on, and he's admitted into the hospital. The rest of the friends have to cope. Enjolras seems a little less like himself. Could this new era be too much to handle?

The bus pulled to a halt outside the hospital and Enjolras helped Joly and I guide Bossuet off, and the rest of the group followed close. I noticed that they all linked hands, and it made me happy to know they took the buddy system seriously. We led Lesgles into the emergency room, and I signed him in while the others took seats. The nurse gave me papers to fill out, and I brought them to Bossuet, then took a seat next to him, opposite Joly. I filled out the parts we had discussed, and he helped me fill out the rest. He seemed a little overwhelmed by all the questions, so after answering just a few, Joly took over for him and answered as best as he could. Bossuet tried to curl up on Joly's shoulder for a nap, but neither of us let him. While I filled out the paperwork with Joly, Enjolras kept Lesgles distracted with talks of old memories. Luckily, the waiting room was pretty empty, and they kept hushed voices.  
"Why do they need to know all this?" Joly asked me.  
"It helps them better understand his medical history. Do you know if he's allergic to anything?"  
"I don't know."  
"With my luck, I could be allergic to anything. Only one way to find out," Lesgles said. I nudged him gently and playfully. He smiled. "Don't you worry about me. I'm fine."  
"I know," I said. "How are you feeling?"  
"I'm alright. My head hurts, but I'm alright."  
"Okay. Just sit back and relax. I'm going to hand in the papers so they can get on with seeing you," I told him. He nodded and smiled.  
"Merci."  
"For what?"  
"Everything."  
"No problem, Lesgles," I whispered, kissing his cheek. He smiled and set his head on Joly's shoulder.

After a while, a nurse came into the waiting room, and we all perked up. We were truly worried about Bossuet, who seemed to really want to go to sleep. He was getting irritated that we wouldn't let him. We were all getting anxious, and it was a relief to see the nurse glance in our direction.  
"Les Jacobs," she said, with a southern accent. We all stood. "We can't have all of you back there. Most of you, please just wait out here. We can allow two of you to come with him," she said. They all looked angry and worried. Enjolras stood tall and nodded, then shot a look to the group that backed what the nurse had said. He turned to me.  
"You and Joly take him. We'll be fine out here. Buddy system," Enjolras assured me with a wink. I nodded.  
"Alright, Enjolras. You keep them out of trouble. Don't touch anything, and don't say too much to people."  
"You have my word. Bossuet, my friend, feel better," Enjolras said with a nod of his head, then returned to the group and took a seat.  
"Bossuet? Says on the paperwork that your name is Les," said the nurse, with a raised eyebrow. Lesgles nodded and patted her shoulder.  
"Oui… I am Bossuet," he said. I shifted nervously.  
"Are you not Les Jacobs?" asked the nurse.  
"I am," he said. The nurse looked puzzled.  
"He's having a hard time concentrating, Madame… His name is Les. He plays as Bossuet," Joly said.  
"Les Misérables?" the nurse asked. Bossuet nodded.  
"Yes," I said.  
"That explains the costumes… Did y'all come straight from rehearsal?" the nurse replied.  
"Yes," Lesgles said. The nurse turned to me.  
"Why aren't you in costume?" she asked. I smiled.  
"I'm not part of the cast… I'm a photographer," I replied.  
"I read the book as a little girl. Would you believe I haven't seen the film yet?" she asked, opening a door and leading us into a room. "Now, you just set yourself up on the bed until the nurse comes in," she added, patting the bed. We all helped Lesgles onto the bed, and he smiled at the comfort. I absolutely believed she hadn't seen the film. If she had, she'd have realized that the faces were the same. She would've caught on immediately. That many look-alikes in one room would've stirred something… Of course, we couldn't use the actors' names. That would be fraud. "The nurse will be with you shortly," she said, then left the room. Joly stood by Bossuet's side, and insisted I take the only chair. After arguing back and forth for a while, I gave in and took a seat. A while later, a nurse came in.  
"Good afternoon, Mr. Jacobs. How are you feeling?" she asked. She was cheery, and I didn't know how that was even possible under these circumstances.  
"I feel okay. My head hurts. I want to sleep," Bossuet groaned.  
"We'll get you checked out so you can go home and sleep soon. What happened?" she asked, reading something on the computer.  
"I slipped on ice."  
"Says here you hit your head?"  
"Yeah."  
"Okay… Mr. Jacobs-"  
"Les."  
"Les… Do you know what today is?" she asked. My heart skipped a beat. I hadn't actually told them. This was going to end badly. I sat straight, on edge, biting my lip hard.  
"Thursday," he said. I was shocked that he was right.  
"Do you know the date?"  
"June…" he trailed off. "Wait," he added. "February… the 20th." My eyes damn near popped out of my head. I didn't know how he knew, but I was glad he didn't slip up.  
"That's right, Les… Do you know the year?"  
"1832," he replied. I cringed, and noticed that Joly nudged him.  
"1832 was a long time ago, Les," the nurse said.  
"No. I'm sorry. It's… wait, I remember. Give me a moment, please Madame."  
"Take your time."  
"Two thousand something, right?"  
"Sure."  
"Fourteen."  
"That's right… Do you know who our President is?" she asked. How could I forget they asked stupid questions like that?! I mentally kicked myself, sure that he wouldn't be returning with us. This was my fault.  
"I don't care to discuss politics," he replied.  
"Just the same, who is in the White House right now?"  
"I do not see how this is more important than checking over my wound. I believe it's still bleeding, Madame."  
"A doctor will be in to take care of your wound shortly. These are just routine questions, Mr. Jacobs."  
"Obama," he grumbled. "Now, will you please carry on? I'd like to go home and get some rest."  
"Very well. Let me just check all your vitals," the nurse said, taking his wrist in her hand.  
"Madame, can you please get a doctor? I've checked him over. He is perfectly healthy. He just needs some stitches," Joly asked softly. I could tell that he was as worried as I was.  
"Are you qualified?" she asked.  
"I am practiced in medicine, yes. His wounds should have been looked after before all of these nonsense questions. Do you wish for him to bleed to death?"  
"Joel, relax, it'll be okay," I reminded. The last thing we needed was for a problem to arise. I really didn't want to see the group forming a barricade in the middle of the hospital corridor.  
"I do not like the order they do things," Joly told me.  
"I know… I don't like it much either, but she's almost done," I said.  
"Very well. Carry on, Madame. Please, be quick."  
The nurse checked the rest of Bossuet's vitals, and sent for a doctor, then filed the report. Afterward, she left. She seemed a little disgruntled, but not one of us really cared. Once we were alone, I turned to them.  
"Okay, spill," I said.  
"Spill? Spill what?" Bossuet asked, confused.  
"How did you know what day it was?"  
"I am not stupid, Emily. I can read the calendar on the wall just fine," he said with a wink. Joly giggled a little, and I let out a small laugh.  
"Glad to hear it… How the hell did you know the President, though?"  
"Gavroche figured out the box that keeps Marius… Kind of. I remembered seeing something about a President Obama… We decided to shut it off before Enjolras overheard. We're not quite ready for another revolution just yet."  
"It's called a television, or TV, and I'm certainly glad you pay attention to detail. I was afraid you wouldn't be coming home with us."  
"Why wouldn't I go home with you? I am perfectly alright!"  
"Not if you don't know the date, and the President… They'd keep you for observation. I'm kind of hoping they won't… Do you know where we are?"  
"A terrible hospital."  
"Kind of… Try to learn this fast, okay? We're in New York… A state in America."  
"Okay… New York, America. February 20th, 2014. The President is Obama."  
"Indeed."  
"See? I'm quite alright. Why are they so slow? I could have bled to death!"  
"If you were bleeding that bad, they would have taken care of your wounds before asking you those silly questions."  
"They should have, anyway."  
"I know… The system is flawed, but you'll be okay." There was a knock at the door, and the doctor entered.  
"Good afternoon, Mr. Jacobs. How are you feeling?"  
"I am feeling okay. My head hurts, but I am fine. Please, call me Les."  
"Okay, Les. All your vitals are fine, but the nurse reported a bit of confusion."  
"Madame, he hit his head," Joly said.  
"I am aware, Sir. Les, do you know what year it is?"  
"It is 2014."  
"Good. The nurse said that you told her it was 1832. That's pretty far in the past."  
"I got confused for a moment, doctor. I am in a play that takes place in 1832."  
"That would explain the clothing… Very well, Les. Let's take a look at that forehead, shall we?" the doctor replied. Bossuet nodded. The doctor put on gloves, and took the bandage away. She wiped the wound clean and smiled. "It's not that bad at all. You'll need a few stitches. I don't want you to take any naps today though, do you understand?"  
"I understand… I'm very tired, though."  
"Once we've got you all stitched up, I'll check you for a concussion. Given the reports, you might have one," she told him. He simply nodded. Joly held his hand as the doctor stitched the wound, and he handled it rather well. After dying at the barricade, one would think stitches would be nothing anyway. The doctor checked his eyes, neck, head, and breathing. "Okay Les… Let's take you down the hall for a scan. Will one of you be able to fill out the insurance information?"  
"I can do that," I told her.  
"Scan? What scan?" Bossuet asked.  
"We're going to scan your brain. I think you might have a slight concussion, and I want to make sure it's not worse than it appears."  
"Will it hurt?"  
"Nope. You won't feel a thing."  
"Can Joly come with me?"  
"He can come to the room, but he has to wait outside."

As I filled out the paperwork, the doctor led Joly and Bossuet down the hall. I was nervous as hell. I hoped Lesgles would be okay. After what seemed like an eternity, the two returned. Bossuet was wearing a hospital gown, and Joly carried the pile of clothing in one hand, while holding his friend steady with the other. Both of us helped Lesgles back onto the bed.  
"I don't see why I can't get back into my clothes," Lesgles said.  
"They probably just want to make sure they don't have to do any more scans first," I told him, setting the finished papers aside.  
"My head is all stitched up. Why can't we just go home? I'm tired and lightheaded. I want to go to sleep. I have a headache."  
"I know. Hopefully soon. Just gotta wait for the results to come back." After a while, the doctor returned with the scans.  
"Mr. Jacobs, have you ever had any kind of brain surgery?" she asked. Bossuet looked baffled.  
"No… Why?" he replied. She held up the results of the scans to show images of his brain, with something dark somewhere inside it.  
"This dark spot here worries me… It seems to be some sort of metal obstruction. Honestly, it looks like a bullet. With where it's located, you shouldn't even be alive. The impact would have been fatal." My head felt like it was about to explode. What could that mean? Joly seemed quite intrigued by the images of his friend's brain.  
"I am alive."  
"I know. This is… a medical mystery. It doesn't seem to be affecting you at all. I'd like to keep you overnight for observation, and if you'll allow, do some further brain scans to find out just what that is, and how it got there."  
"I want to go home."  
"You have a concussion, Mr. Jacobs. Whether we do further testing or not, I want you to stay here overnight for observation. We want to monitor you to make sure you don't get worse. You will be well taken care of, and will receive the best treatment," the doctor said. Bossuet frowned and looked at me. I took his hand.  
"Can I go home tomorrow?" he asked.  
"As long as you are fine, yes. I might keep you longer if you still seem confused and disoriented."  
"Can Joly stay with me?"  
"Who is Joly?"  
"I am," said Joly.  
"Are you a relative?" Joly looked at me. I nodded. I knew that if they weren't, it wouldn't typically be allowed.  
"He is my brother."  
"Then yes, Mr. Jacobs. Your brother may stay with you," the doctor said. She turned to me. "Ma'am, will you be staying?"  
"No… I'm just a friend, and his employer… I have all the insurance information filled out. May I speak with them in private for a moment?"  
"Of course. I'll send a nurse when there's a room ready for him."  
"Thank you." The doctor left, and Bossuet looked at me with sad eyes.  
"I want to go home with you," he told me. I squeezed his hand gently.  
"I know… You'll be better by tomorrow, and I'll come pick you up," I said with a reassuring smile. At least, I hoped it was reassuring. I was too worried to know for sure.  
"But she wants to run more tests."  
"You can refuse, if you don't want them."  
"I don't want them. I'm scared."  
"Why are you scared?"  
"She said it looked like a bullet… I should have been dead."  
"You were dead."  
"That's why I'm scared… She can't find that out. Besides, she said it's not harming me. I'm fine, aside from the gash on my forehead and the concussion."  
"I know, Bossuet. Maybe in the future… It's truly puzzling. When I checked Enjolras for wounds, he didn't even have scars… Now, I can't see through your hair, but I'm assuming you don't have a scar or wound either."  
"My head didn't hurt until I hit it."  
"Good… This just keeps getting stranger."  
"It's my luck, I tell you," Bossuet said, laughing a little. We laughed with him. "Don’t tell anyone, but I think I started balding," he added after a few moments. Really? The mix between the book and the movie were getting to be ridiculous and confusing. I shrugged it off for now.  
"I won't tell anyone… Anyway, since you're staying the night in this comfortable bed, I should get going. I'm leaving you my home phone number and my cell phone number. If you need help, ask one of the nurses to dial it. I'm going to request that they call me when you're ready for discharge so I can come by and pick you up. Get some rest, and try to have answers ready for them without having to think for so long, and you'll be able to come home sooner. Don't get out of the bed, unless you have their help."  
"I wish you could stay… It would make everything less confusing."  
"I know… but I have to look after everyone else, too. You have Joly. If either of you need anything, like a drink, or something to eat, just ask one of the nurses. They'll explain everything. If they think you're confused, just tell them you've never been to a hospital before."  
"Okay. Thank you, Emily… Are you going to tell the others about the bullet?"  
"I don't know. I don't want to scare them."  
"Don't tell them. Not yet."  
"Okay, I won't. Get some rest, Bossuet, and feel better," I said, kissing his forehead gently. He smiled and kissed my hand.  
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said with a hopeful look in his eyes. I wrote down my phone numbers and watched Joly tuck it into his waistcoat, and then left directions with the doctor and nurse to call me when he was going to be discharged. The moment I stepped foot into the waiting room, I was rushed by a group of worried Les Amis.  
"Is he alright?" Jehan asked.  
"Where is he?" asked Gavroche. I ushered them back to their seats.  
"He's okay… They're sending him to a room. He's all stitched up, but he's got a slight concussion, so they're keeping him overnight for observation," I explained. I hated leaving him and Joly alone, but I had to look after the others. They wouldn't even be able to find their way back to my house without me. I had to constantly remind myself that Bossuet would be okay.  
"Is anybody staying with him?" Enjolras asked.  
"Joly… They're going to call me when he gets settled into his room, and they'll leave me the number so I can call him. You can all wish him a good night."  
"Can we go see him now?" Eponine asked.  
"No. Let him rest. He's been through a lot. He's in good hands, and he'll probably be home tomorrow."  
"Probably?" asked Combeferre, disgruntled.  
"More than likely… As long as he isn't too confused, and can walk on his own, he should be fine to come home."  
"Oh… Why can't we just take him home with us? Joly can take care of him."  
"Joly isn't as qualified… What could Joly do to help him?" I asked. They all went silent. "Exactly… Come now, let's go home. We've all had a rough day. I'll get a sub from the deli across the street, and we'll catch the bus back home."  
"What if something happens to him while we're gone?" Grantaire asked.  
"They will call me, and we'll come right back."  
"We can't all keep coming back and forth… You should… Do you think it will be possible for us to see him now? Y'know… just in case?" Enjolras said. I swallowed hard.  
"I'll talk to the nurse," I said.

After they all visited him and said good night, we stopped at the deli for a sub, then headed home on the bus. We scattered around the house, between the kitchen and living room as we ate, and then they all curled up around the living room in their pajamas. It was a quiet night. Not one of us really felt like speaking. We were all too worried about Bossuet.

Around 1am, I received a phone call, and my heart nearly stopped. I assumed it was bad news about Bossuet. I told myself that it was just a little bump to the head and he'd be fine. After all, he had survived so much worse! I held my breath for a moment, then cautiously picked up the phone, while a sleepy Enjolras waddled over to my side, still half asleep. His golden locks were a complete mess, and he looked exhausted. He rubbed his eyes and sat next to me at the table, as I eyed my phone nervously, with one hand gripping the table. He set a hand on top of mine, and his other found its way to my shoulder in a reassuring grip. I took a deep breath and sighed.  
"Hello?" I asked.  
 _"Are you sure it was Les that hit his head?"_ a woman's voice answered.  
"Yes, why?" I replied, biting my lip.  
 _"Les is doing quite well. His little friend is rather… inquisitive,"_ said the voice. I assumed it was a night nurse.  
"Oh… That's Joel. He's a medical student. I'm sure he just wants to learn all that he can," I said with a small laugh, both real and fake at the same time. It was real, from relief that Bossuet was fine, and fake to sell the lie.  
 _"Les keeps calling him Joly."_  
"Stage name."  
 _"Oh yeah. Les was saying something about performing. So, we shouldn't worry about his friend? Perfectly normal?"_  
"Perfectly normal. In fact, perhaps, indulge him. Answer any questions he has. He's an eager learning, and I'm sure he'd be thrilled to know as much as you can tell him. It could really help improve his studying."  
 _"Of course! I'm going to administer some pain medication to Les. It'll help his headache, and let him sleep better. He'll need as much rest as possible when he gets home. Joel, you say? He could probably use a sleep aid himself. He won't sit still."_  
"Do you need me to talk to him?"  
 _"That won't be necessary. I was only half-joking. We can handle him just fine. Maybe I'll give him a tour to ease his mind. He's worried about Les… Mostly, I just called to give you a good report. Your friend is doing fine."_  
"That's great news. I'm truly glad to hear it. You think I'll be able to pick him up tomorrow for sure?"  
 _"Unless things turn around, absolutely. That's why we wanted to keep him for observation. They gave you his room number so you could call if you needed to, correct?"_  
"Actually, no, they didn't. We left before he was settled in."  
 _"Room 183… Level 2. You just dial the number, then 9, and then the room number. I'm going to bring him some juice and some medicine. Would you like to speak with him?"_  
"That would be appreciated, thank you," I said. It wasn't necessary, if he was doing well, but it would be nice to talk to him anyway.  
 _"Hold on just a moment and I'll connect you,"_ she said. Sure enough, I was put on hold for a few moments.  
 _"Hello?"_ asked the familiar voice of Lesgles.  
"Hey," I said, smiling now. Enjolras perked up. I got up and grabbed a second phone, and handed it to the blonde. He smiled and turned it on.  
"Hey, how are you feeling?" Enjolras asked.  
 _"Heeyy! Enjolras?! Nobody ever explained this to me. How is this possible?"_ Lesgles replied.  
"Something about phone lines connecting. Don't you worry about it right now. You need to rest your mind. Don't think too much," Enjolras said in a soft voice. It had an air of caring that I'd never heard before. It was different from his frantic, worried caring. I saw a light come to his blue eyes, and I knew he was happy that Lesgles was okay.  
 _"I'll be fine! You all worry too much! The revolution's the only thing that can bring ol' Bossuet down!"_  
"That's good to know. I still want you to rest."  
 _"Leader's orders?"_  
"Leader's orders," Enjolras said with a soft smile. I smiled too.  
 _"How's everyone doing over there?"_  
"We're doing good. We had a giant sandwich for dinner… We've all been worried about you."  
 _"I told you, no need to worry… Joly and I shared a turkey breast meal. It was alright, but there wasn't enough gravy for the mashed potatoes… The juice was decent, and they served cake for dessert, with these tiny cartons of milk! I've never seen anything like it!"_  
"What are they doing for you, besides feeding you?"  
 _"Well, I vomited a few times, so they've hooked me to an I.V. to keep me hydrated… Joly said he remembered hearing something about it because of the cholera, but he's not that familiar with the method."_  
"What's that?"  
 _"Oh… Yeah, if he wasn't that familiar, you wouldn't be… They've injected me with a fluid drip."_  
"How?"  
 _"A needle in my vein… It's not so quick, though. It's a big bag of fluid, and I just have to let it drip slowly."_  
"Sounds like torture."  
 _"Nah. It's not so bad. I just have to be careful how I move my arm. Joly's taking good care of me, and of course, annoying the nurses."_  
"He's annoying the nurses?" Enjolras asked.  
 _"Not entirely. I think he's amusing them, really. They probably don't get too many people that ask questions about every little thing."_  
"Is he really asking that many questions?"  
 _"He's eager to learn. He's curious. He was thrilled to find out more about the I.V… He asked a lot of questions about my condition as well. Don't worry, Enjolras. He's being good. He's fine. Just being our normal Joly."_  
"That's good. Are you feeling better?"  
 _"I'm feeling fine… my head still hurts, but I'm not confused anymore. I'm not really nauseous anymore either… Oh, hold on, Enjolras. The nurse came back. She wants to speak with me."_

We heard the nurse talking to them about the medications, and Joly asking all sorts of questions. The nurse sounded delighted to explain all of it to him. We were both thankful for that. After a few minutes of listening to the three of them talking, Joly picked up the phone.  
 _"The nurse is going to give him some pain medication… She said it'll make him sleep. He doesn't think I should worry… I've been learning some interesting things, Enjolras! I'd like to enroll in medical courses as soon as possible here."_  
"That's great, Joly. You definitely should, as soon as we figure everything out. We're not using any more of Emily's money, though. She's done more than enough for us. Don't you forget that, now."  
 _"I didn't, Enjolras. I'm thankful for all she's done. I plan to pay my own way. I'm not sure how yet, but I'll figure it out. How's she doing?"_  
"She's right here. She can hear you."  
 _"Emily? How're you?"_  
"I'm good, Joly. Causing trouble, I hear," I joked.  
 _"No, of course not!"_  
"I'm just joking. Having fun?"  
 _"I'm enjoying learning… I wish it were under better circumstances, though."_  
"Agreed."  
 _"She just gave him his medicine… He should probably say goodnight to you both. She said it works fast, because she puts it right into the I.V… So fascinating!"_  
"Okay, Joly. Put him back on, then… You get some rest as well," Enjolras said.  
 _"I will, Enjolras. I'm going to curl up with him."_  
"Okay. Goodnight, Joly," we both said.  
 _"Goodnight, Enjolras. Good night, Emily."_  
 _"Hey… I'm back… The medicine will probably kick in soon. I better go. You guys take care, and get some rest. I'll be fine, so don't worry about me, okay?"_ Lesgles said.  
"Alright, Bossuet. Get your rest. We'll see you tomorrow," said Enjolras.  
"They'll call me when you're ready to be picked up. I think it'll just be me to come and get you. I'm sure the buddy system will work while I'm gone," I said.  
 _"Okay… Good night, Enjolras. Good night, Emily,"_ Bossuet said, drowsily. We said our goodnights, and hung up the phones.  
"Going back to bed?" I asked Enjolras. He shook his head. "You're worried anyway, aren't you?"  
"Always. Nothing turned out the way it was supposed to. I have to worry now. We're not safe in this time. We know nothing of it. How do I know those are good doctors?"  
"Because I'm telling you they're good, and Bossuet will be fine."  
"But how do you know?"  
"Because it's nothing big."  
"They kept him."  
"To keep an eye on him. He's in good hands. They'll call if something's wrong… But if you can't sleep, let me make you some tea."  
"Tea?"  
"Have you never had tea?"  
"Of course I've had tea! You just… I think of you as a coffee person."  
"I can be… I quite love my tea as well. Let's have some tea and biscuits, and get some rest."  
"You don't sleep very often, do you?"  
"What makes you say that?"  
"You have no problem staying up late… Like with Grantaire, and now with me… You're wide awake at night."  
"Yeah… a bit of an insomniac."  
"You'd make a good watchman… woman. Good watch woman!" he corrected, blushing. I chuckled and placed a hand on his.  
"It's alright. I knew what you meant… If it makes you comfortable, you can think of me as one of the guys. It's no big deal."  
"But you're a woman."  
"Your point?"  
"It would be disrespectful to call you a man."  
"Not if I give you permission. Think of me however you'd like. I just want you to be comfortable with me. What's your favourite kind of tea?" I asked. He shrugged.  
"I'm not much for tea," he said. I raised an eyebrow. "I prefer coffee," he added.  
"Ah… Well, you don't need coffee right now. You need sleep. How do you drink your coffee?"  
"You just said I don't need coffee…"  
"How do you drink your coffee?"  
"Black, usually, with sugar."  
"Okay… Well, then just the opposite to relax you," I said with a smile. I knew what I was going to give him.  
"What if I don't like it?"  
"I'll make you something new."  
"I don't want to waste."  
"It's no big deal… I think you'll like it, though."  
"Well, what is it?"  
"Don't you worry about it. Let me just make it for you," I told him, bright-eyed. He smiled softly and nodded. Once I had his permission, I boiled water and made two big mugs of hot tea. I scooped in enough sugar, and added some vanilla soy milk, since I wasn't huge on actual milk, and always thought it gave an extra boost of flavour anyway. I set his cup in front of him, and set out a plate of tea biscuits between us, then took a seat next to him and sipped at my tea. He eyed me curiously, and I simply smiled into my drink and let out a small, silent laugh. He raised an eyebrow.  
"What's funny?"  
"Nothing. What are you waiting for? Drink your tea."  
"What did you do to it?"  
"I did the same thing I always do. Will you just try it?"  
"It looks odd."  
"It's fine."  
"Is it the same as yours?"  
"It is, indeed. Enjolras, are you afraid to try tea?"  
"I'm not afraid," he scoffed, puffing his chest. I giggled a little.  
"Then try it," I said, egging him on.  
"Fine. I will," he said. He hesitated a moment, then took a sip from the mug. I nearly burst into laughter at the state of bliss written all over his face, which he evidently thought he could hide from me. He paused for a moment, before sneaking another sip.  
"And? How is it?" I asked.  
"Haven't tried it yet," he lied.  
"Well, go on then. What are you waiting for?" I replied, going along with it. He sighed and took a sip, and tried to seem apathetic toward it.  
"It's good," he said. I sipped at mine.  
"Just good?"  
"Drinkable."  
"Is that all?"  
"No… This is delicious. What is it?" he replied in a hushed voice. It was obvious he couldn't contain himself.  
"It's Chai tea. It's best with lots of sugar and cream. I use vanilla soy milk."  
"Soy milk?"  
"It's made from soy beans, instead of from an animal."  
"Interesting… It has a lot of different spices."  
"Indeed."  
"How did you know I'd like it?"  
"Because when I need to be really busy, I enjoy a good cup of black coffee… and when I'm upset, or worried, or I had a rough day and I just want to relax, I immediately turn to a cup of hot Chai," I told him.  
"So you were assuming we'd have the same taste?" he asked. I smiled and sipped at my tea again.  
"I was right, wasn't I?"  
"You were… It makes me feel different…"  
"Less tense?"  
"Yeah."  
"Like a weight has been lifted?"  
"Indeed."  
"It's comforting, isn't it?"  
"Absolutely."  
"It's a comfort drink. It'll help you relax."  
"I see that… And this will help me forget my worries about Bossuet?"  
"It's as comforting as a good cuddle… You won't forget, but it'll make it easier to cope with," I explained.  
"It's easier than cuddling, too."  
"Ever cuddle?"  
"No."  
"Why not?"  
"I never really had interest in it. There are more important things, anyway."  
"Like revolution?"  
"Well, yes… But only because it was needed. Somebody had to do something for the people."  
"I know. I don't blame you… But no revolution is needed now. What are you going to do?"  
"I'll have to contemplate our purpose."  
"You think you'll have time for cuddling?"  
"Maybe… Are you hinting?"  
"No, actually. I was really just wondering what you were like when you had time to think of yourself."  
"I think I could go for a second cup of tea."  
"Really?"  
"If you'll allow it."  
"Of course."

We drank tea and ate biscuits together for a while, and then I gave him a hug, which, now that we were alone, he seemed to enjoy. He sighed in content and rested his chin on the top of my head. We stayed that way for a few moments, before he pulled away, looking unsure. I gave him a reassuring smile, and he smiled back.  
"Thank you… You're a good person," he told me.  
"What makes you say that?"  
"This is all just as crazy for you, but you only seem to care about us… Tea and hugs? You're trying to make me feel better."  
"Of course… I know we've only known each other for roughly forty-eight hours, but you're my friends. This is what friends do."  
"It's true. I've seen them all comfort one another."  
"And you never took part."  
"I couldn't."  
"I know… But now you can… Enjolras?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Bossuet'll be fine. I'll pick him up later, and we'll all just spend the day playing games, and we'll have a nice dinner."  
"Bossuet should rest."  
"He will. Fun games. Nothing where he has to think a lot, I promise!"  
"He should rest."  
"Alright… We'll all curl up and watch movies, and then have a nice dinner."  
"What movie?"  
"I'd say Les Mis, but… I'm pretty sure a big chunk of that movie is missing now."  
"We'll let Lesgles pick," Enjolras said. I smiled and nodded.  
"Agreed… Y'know, you're all doing really well here. You're learning fast, and you seem pretty comfortable."  
"You make it easy."  
"I'm glad to hear that. You make it easy to adjust, too. What would you like for dinner tomorrow?"  
"Well, I saw that you bought chicken… So, perhaps that?"  
"Sure. I'll make you all something that I think you'll enjoy. Don't forget, you promised to teach me how to make crepes one day!"  
"Tomorrow?"  
"No. We both need our rest… But of course, wake me if I’m needed, for any reason."  
"Any reason?"  
"Unless you hear cars outside, Enjolras. That's perfectly normal!"  
"Okay… So what if I'm thirsty?"  
"You have permission to raid the fridge."  
"Hungry?"  
"The same."  
"What if Gavroche wants to eat?"  
"Make something for him."  
"So does this mean you trust me again?"  
"I never stopped trusting you. Nobody could have known that Bossuet would get hurt. Now we have the buddy system, so everything should be fine."  
"After you go to bed, who's my buddy?"  
"All of your buddies are asleep, Enjolras. You need to get some sleep, too."  
"Okay, but what if I can't sleep?"  
"Are you afraid?"  
"No. I'm just trying to understand the buddy system better."  
"Alright. If you can't sleep, wake me. I'll keep you company."  
"You need to rest, though."  
"I'd rather you not get hurt."  
"I'll be fine."  
"Are you sure?" I asked. He nodded.  
"I'm old enough to take care of myself."  
"Lesgles is older, and look at what happened to him."  
"Oui, but he has bad luck."  
"And you don't?"  
"No."  
"You realize you died, right?"  
"It was my choice… It was all of our choices. It was a sacrifice we were all willing to make for the good of the people… For France."  
"I know… Why don't you come lie down?"  
"Where? Everywhere is full."  
"My bed," I said. I had hoped that he didn't get the wrong idea. I wasn't making any sort of move on him. I just wanted him to actually get some rest. He raised an eyebrow.  
"I couldn't ask you to give up your bed for me."  
"I'm not… It's obvious that you're worried about Lesgles. You shouldn't be alone right now, and you need rest."  
"Isn't it wrong?"  
"No. We're not doing anything wrong by sleeping."  
"Just sleeping?" he asked.  
"Why? Did you have something else in mind?" I joked. His eyes widened and he shook his head.  
"No, Mademoiselle. Of course not."  
"Neither did I… But you need comfort, and I need comfort, and we both desperately need sleep, Enjolras. Come on now. We'll get you some comfortable pajamas, and we'll get some rest."  
"Why do you care so much?"  
"It's who I am… Why do you?"  
"Same reason," he told me with a smile.

He followed me upstairs to my bedroom, and I gave him clean pajamas. He excused himself to my bathroom and returned a few minutes later, looking much more comfortable. I smiled at the sight in front of me. The blonde man plopped onto the bed with a relieved smile, clad in red plaid pajama bottoms, and a black t-shirt with some words that could hardly be read, though I knew it said "I'm only wearing black until they make something darker". It had been a gift many years ago, and I had never gotten rid of it. He definitely looked right in the clothes, and he seemed to think so, too.  
"Comfortable?" I asked.  
"Very. These clothes and your bed are quite soft," he replied, smiling at me.  
"I know… Go on and get some rest now. You need it."  
"I'm not tired," he said with a yawn. I chuckled.  
"Bullshit. You're yawning."  
"Alright, I'm tired… But I'm also worried about Lesgles."  
"There's nothing to worry about. If there were, somebody would have called. He's going to be okay."  
"How do you know?"  
"Even with all the bad luck, he only died once, and that was a sacrifice. His bad luck never took him."  
"That's an interesting way of looking at it."  
"Indeed. Did it help?"  
"Actually, it kind of did. But I feel kind of awkward sharing a bed with you."  
"Is it because I'm a woman?"  
"Perhaps," he said. I wasn't offended.  
"Would you feel better if you shared it with someone else?"  
"No."  
"Well, what would you do if we were at the barricade right now?" I asked. He shrugged.  
"I wouldn't want you at the barricade. I would have sent you off."  
"For what reason?"  
"You have a family to go home to."  
"I haven't any family."  
"You don't?"  
"Nope. Actually, to be honest… I don't have anybody."  
"Nobody at all?"  
"Not until you lot showed up."  
"Who kept you company?"  
"I did."  
"Who spoke with you?"  
"Just my customers, and lawyers."  
"Lawyers?"  
"For my divorce."  
"So you have a husband…"  
"Yeah, but he's an asshole."  
"He's the one that hurt you, isn't he?"  
"I thought you said you wouldn't ask…"  
"Oh my… You're absolutely right. I apologize for being so rude. It is your business."  
"Enjolras, relax… You're right… He's the one that hurt me."  
"Would it be rude to ask how?"  
"No. You can ask me anything you want, always. If I'm not comfortable, I'd simply tell you so."  
"That is a very different way of thinking… I like it… How did he hurt you?"  
"He was abusive."  
"He hit you?"  
"Sometimes…" I told him. The look in his eyes made me want to stop talking. I went silent, and looked away. I was shocked when I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around me, and a head resting on top of mine.  
"He'll never hurt you again," said Enjolras in a gentle, yet strong voice. I could feel his voice vibrating against the top of my head, and straight into my soul, and I smiled. I didn't have any words, so I remained still and silent in his embrace. "I won't let him," he said.  
"Thank you," I squeaked.  
"You'll have your freedom."  
"I hope so."  
"We'll make sure of it."  
"Even if I'm never fully free from him… I'm okay. I don't have to live with him anymore, and that's good enough for me, even if that means I can never have another relationship because I'm technically still married."  
"That's wrong. If he hurt you, you should have already been allowed a divorce," Enjolras said sternly, puffing his chest out a little. I shrugged.  
"It's okay, Enjolras."  
"No, it's not."  
"He can't come near me. That's good enough… Now come on, let's get some rest," I said, nudging him gently with a playful smile. He sighed and settled into the bed, but he looked grumpy. It was adorable. As I relaxed into my side of the bed, and my heavy eyelids started to close, I felt a hand grip mine. I looked over with sleepy eyes, and Enjolras offered me a small smile. Once I smiled back, he closed his eyes, keeping my hand in his. After about five minutes, I heard a soft snore escape from the blonde next to me, and I smiled. At last, he was resting, and that meant that I could rest, too.

**Author's Note:**

> © Dawn Bonney-Heath 3/4/2014


End file.
